Magic
by MandyJane
Summary: The Next Generation - who are they? What are they like, who are they like, how do they grow? Are they apart or together? Beautiful or ugly? Strong or weak? Or are they just teenagers with famous names, muddling through like everyone else in the world?
1. Why?

**A/N - This is a drabble-fic I've been toying with for a while now...I'm starting with a chapter on each of the next generation, and then I might put in some pairings and anecdotes as well. Victoire isn't a chapter at the moment, for reasons which will becoma apparent later on, but everyone else is here! Enjoy :)**

Magic

They're only human, after all, so why do they dance through life as though angels lead them by the hand? Why do people look at them in wonderment when they pass by, why do they lead every charge, sing every verse, throw their warmth at you in dazzling smiles that leave you gasping?

Every so often you break out of their aura, take a deep breath as though you've been thrown into icy water and you realize – they're just like you. They learn, and fail tests, and cry, and make just as many mistakes as you do and regret them just as bitterly.

And you look at their crowds of adoring fans sceptically, all the guys hanging on the words of girls with brassy laughs and too bright eyes, and the girls who glance adoringly at the boys showing off by the windows. You can't work out why they're so adored, so totally worshipped here. They haven't done anything, after all, just grown up (yes, with the saviours of the world, but really they've done nothing themselves)

You scan over their little group, the fiery heads dominating, but topped by shining blonde softly glowing above them, all bookended by the sooty black hair of the Potter boys, like the frame of a picture. And yes, they are striking, and they make it hard to look away from them, but really, why? What makes them so special? Who are they?


	2. James Sirius Potter

James Sirius Potter

First, there's James. He's the undisputed leader, since Teddy and Victoire moved on, the one they come to if that famous Weasley resilience isn't enough to solve their problems. He's tall, like his uncle, with his father's black hair and his mother's careless grin. He spent hours staring at photographs of his namesakes while he was younger, studying their quirks and habits as though his existence depended upon it. He perfected Sirius' dashing wink, the glib slipping off of compliments and slow smouldering gaze in a week, making him the shining star of Hogwarts girls for his entire time there. His hero-worship for James is less open, made evident in his prowess as chaser, his talent for transfiguration and his deep loyalty for his family.

He amazed the teachers from his first day, displaying a natural talent for all sorts of magic that led them to think he could really be someone special (and who could be more special than the child of the boy who saved the world, and the girl who saved the boy?) but he never really seemed to care very much. He passed everything with flying colours, even becoming Head Boy in his last year, but doing well wasn't what interested him.

She interested him.

He didn't fall in love like his grandfather did – quickly and strongly – but instead he sort of realised that he had always been in love with her. This quiet muggleborn girl, who wondered at everything as though it was doused in shining starlight. The girl who faded back sometimes, with her light brown hair and clear blue eyes, who sank into the background just so she could have the pleasure of watching all the beautiful people live.

And he pulled her out of that, took her hand and danced her into the centre of his heady, exciting world and looked at her as though she was the centre of it all. He spun her around in his arms until everything was just a weird blur of colours and happiness and sweet kisses, and now she sits beside him, handclasped, as if she never wants to be anywhere else.

And James looks down at her like he's just realised all over again what she means to him.

And they look like magic.


	3. Dominique Weasley

Dominique Weasley 

Next is Dominique, sitting on the floor at her cousin's feet as Rose puts a tiny braid in her straight red hair. She is the tallest girl, willowy like her sister and supple as if she might bend with the wind, but never ever break. She sways with the trials the world buffets her with, full of her mother's grace and her father's determination. And as her sister, the silver-gilt princess of the magical world, born and named for the greatest victory, grows taller and more beautiful and more pregnant every day, Dominique seems to retreat, shrink, hide her pretty pixie face for fear that someone else might hurt her again.

She fell in love with Teddy at fifteen, and kissed him the same night. They had a whirlwind year of secrets and subtle touches and fizzing excitement that made her feel truly brilliant, shining, starry. But then there was that night; the bonfire, the soft sound on the shoreline and her sister, her perfect sister, radiant and piercing Teddy with her blue eyes like he was the only one there.

And he left, drawn like a moth to the dancing, vibrant, destructive flame as if he couldn't even see Dominique, his hand slipping from hers like sand through her fingers.

For months he just looked through her, always towards her sister. As if he couldn't, wouldn't remember her.

So she changed, thinking that if Teddy, the boy who loved her above all else, more than anyone else in the world, could do this, then so could everyone she met. She withdrew, growing her hair long around her small shoulders and spending more and more time alone during the holidays. When she sits with her cousins she is always quiet, answering questions briefly but with a sweet, hesitant smile as half an apology.

They notice, of course, when her arms get too frail to carry her books and her ankles look as if the might snap at the end of her long, coltish legs. And they try, pushing food on her, bringing her presents from Honeydukes, anything to get her to eat. They even try to slip a potion into her pumpkin juice, but it doesn't work, she just pushes it away.

So they do the only thing they know how to do, and they surround her with the warm, patchworky love that only the Weasleys know. They hold her hand and hug her in hallways and make sure she knows just how much they all care, because they know she'll need them when she realises.

But for now, she is in limbo. Wafting through life on ever-shrinking limbs, cheeks hollow and eyes unfocused and dreamy. She folds herself up at the foot of their chairs, as if she doesn't merit a seat, and waits. Waits for them all for them all to leave so she can finally have peace in her solitude, alone with her dreams of that shining prince who will come one day, who values her above her sister.

And she doesn't realise that she is beautiful (at least when she's eating) and that her soft glow is far preferable to her sister's exhausting energy, but everyone else does, her wistful, hopeful eyes far more entrancing than the calculated gaze of the icy blonde.

And she looks like magic.


	4. Fred Weasley

Fred Weasley

Fred is next, the image of his namesake, all gangly extremities and orange hair. He sits facing the rest of them, performing some trick involving red string and a small pile of chess pieces, His eyes are fixed on the writhing twisting cord that hovers in the air, intent on the perfection as it tells its story.

For as long as he can remember he has heard about his Uncle Fred, the one who wasn't here anymore. Every time they told a story, there was always a pause after his name, and when people met him for the first time the recognition always flashed over their faces. Oh, that Fred…the one they lost.

His Grandma Weasley turns away sometimes when he enters the room, or looks at him with tears in her eyes when he says something that reminds her. His dad doesn't do it so much now, not since Fred got full marks in a Charms exam. Since then he's been more proud of his son than sad that his brother wasn't here instead.

He went out of his way to be different for a while; being staid and sensible for almost a year before he realised that it wasn't fun. If he learnt anything from the first Fred it was to have fun while you can, just in case one day you couldn't anymore. So he changed again, and became the undisputed clown of the school, fully recognised as the engineer of all the greatest pranks they had ever seen. Who else could have charmed all the desks in the school to sing happy birthday to the Headmistress? Who else would dare to hex the Hufflepuff quidditch team so they had to sit on their brooms for a full day, unable to move? He was the only one.

He had a string of casual girlfriends, moving on when none of them could keep up with his relentless drive, but hadn't found anyone who could deal with it, all the time.

But now, a girl sitting by the fireplace snapped her black eyes to his, catching his gaze with a crackling ferocity that drew him in at once. He was mesmerized by her, crouched over a game of wizards chess, agility and speed writ large in her posture.

The string fell to the ground, smashing the spare pieces tangled in it, and they all laughed at his confusion. But his eyes quickly found their way back to the exotic girl by the fireplace, anticipation and excitement evident in his face.

And it looks like magic.

**A/N - Please don't forget to review!**


	5. Molly Weasley

Molly Weasley

Molly is curled up on the armchair behind him, small hands clenched around a huge old book. She looks on, amused, but is soon drawn back into her reading, fascinated by the old ideas on how magic worked. She is more like her aunt than she realises – all the best features of her father and mother combined to make a more moderate Hermione, calmer and quieter and more observant. She is always found sitting with a book, but more often just holding it and watching the world go by than engrossed in the text (she saves the real reading for when no-one is around to bother her). She is fifteen, young and contented and pleased to just flow with everyone at this point.

There's a boy she likes (isn't there always a boy?) and they chat and flirt and exchange hopeful smiles across every room, and she lives for the snatched moments of conversation with him. But she is the kind of girl who builds him up, creates this perfect person and then is intent on believing he is true, no matter what. She is afraid, deathly afraid, that he might disappoint her though, might not be the man she prays and hopes and wishes that he is, so she cuts off any moment when they are perfect, and runs.

She runs and runs up to her room, to the lake, to the bay window at the back of the library and she settles down with a book for a prop and she _dreams,_ dreams and wishes and believes that her fairytale is, will, has come true. In her mind they have already tripped through their awkward stage, moving directly to delicious companionship and familiarity. They have grown up, gone away together after school, danced in the moonlight of a dying day and kissed at the birth of a new year.

When she sees him the excitement bubbles up, as if she will explode with sheer bliss at being near him, but then she pushes it down down _down_, telling herself that it was all lies, he's not really like that at all and she's just going to get hurt, stupid girl, _stupid_ girl.

So she hurries away, clutching her books to her chest and desperately wishing him to follow her, catch her arm and kiss her in the hallway. And he watches her go, pain in his eyes and disappointment ashy in his mouth.

He watches her now, laughing softly at some joke. And he resolves to make her love him, because she's perfect, perfectly wonderfully brilliant, and he doesn't see that she loves him more than anything, but she's too scared to tell him.

And to him she looks like magic.

**A/N - Please review!**


	6. Albus Potter

Albus Potter

Albus stands by the back of her chair, opposite his brother, trying to subtly move further into the centre of the group but never able to, always pushed back in the stupid kindness of his family.

He has the hardest life, of all these blessed people, because he's constantly discounted (or at least it feels like that). James always comes to mind when you think of the Potters, the image of his father, and so does Lily, queen of the castle. But Albus? He just escapes their notice, like a bumblebee stupidly butting against the window of a noisy party.

He didn't notice as much when he was younger, because if they went to do something without him then he just stayed with his parents and was fussed over in the house. But as they grew up, it became more and more evident that they always had enough players for a quidditch team already, or that he could play their games with them only after he begged and pleaded and promised to be good…or threatened to tell the adults.

And he hated it, hated feeling so unwanted and unloved and _unnecessary,_ but he couldn't help but long to be part of their exclusive little group; the older ones, the big cousins, the cool ones.

When he got to Hogwarts it was easier; making friends with Scorpius, realising that he was actually quite good at learning if he tried, becoming his own person rather than an extension of his brother. He soon ended up as a minor celebrity: the only Gryffindor ever to win more than half of the end of year total, but when he got home it was just the same. The bustle and whirl of the Weasleys eclipsed him totally, leaving the wiry boy sitting in the corner of the room again. Alone.

But he loved the times at school – mostly the lessons, after Scorpius began spending more and more time with him _and _Rose, and then just with Rose. He learnt as much as he could, and discovered that he had a talent for making people laugh with his cutting, dry comments. He controlled the humour carefully, unwilling to drive away the friends he won, but people were drawn to him in the hope of a smile from the enigmatic Albus Potter.

He certainly presents a compelling figure, standing at the sidelines as if he doesn't care, offering up the occasional observation that sends the entire room into fits of laughter while he just watches, as if it is only his due. No-one realises how empty he can feel inside, they are just stunned by how he can make you feel like the only person in the world when he sends a wink and a half-mocking, half-wistful smile in your direction.

And it looks like magic.


	7. Roxanne Weasley

Roxanne Weasley

Roxanne is sitting just below Albus, not paying attention to the conversation because she's too busy making eyes at Oliver Gultrot, who is utterly enraptured with her. She's considered the prettiest of the cousins, though Victoire is the beautiful one and Lucy is the cute one, and she's a shameless flirt with it. Long, tanned legs, wavy black hair and a smile that would stop the Devil in his tracks, she's as worshipped by the guys at school as James is by the girls. She can make them fall for her with one glance of her blue eyes and a quick comment, much to her father's chagrin.

He'd be happier if she was like Molly, because that would be easier, but he can't help but adore his sharp-edged daughter who has made it her mission to be a modern Helen, the one with the most hearts around her name.

She decided long ago that just flirting was the way to go, promising much and delivering nothing, when Harry Wood broke her heart in first year. She sent him a Valentine, sweetly worded with all the hope and fright and excitement of a naïve eleven year old, and sat at the back of the class, praying he'd realise it was her and give some grand romantic gesture in return. He passed the card around his friends, laughing uproariously and looking at her with the special cruelty that only young boys have, the fear of ridicule mixed with the strange wish to makes this strange, soft girl leave him alone – when really he wasn't sure why.

She'd sat there in misery until the end of the lesson, when she ran up to her dorm and cried for half an hour, emerging with nerves of steel and a heart so hidden that she couldn't even find it herself sometimes.

Her campaign began then. First year was spent learning as much as she could about boys, and in slow, careful shopping. Second year she studied makeup, how to make it look as if she was naturally flawless with all the tools of her chosen trade. Third year she learned to kiss with a boy who lived near her house in the holidays. By fourth year she was ready, and her revenge began at once. She flirted non-stop with every boy in her year, and above. By the end of a week she had a pack of devoted admirers, who followed her everywhere and insisted on carrying her books and bringing her food. She loved it, the constant attention exactly what she needed to soothe the scars left by the terrible day that left a weird shaky nervousness on her mind – but it wasn't enough.

Eventually she got to him, cornered him in the library and overwhelmed him with fluttering eyelashes and hints of perfume and her small hand on his arm. By the first kiss he was gone, and then they thought that maybe, maybe, she'll calm down now.

They dated for four weeks, enough time for him to become utterly infatuated with her, and it seemed as if she felt the same. They were inseparable, always laughing, smiling, shooting meaning-laden looks across crowded hallways and seeming not to notice when people passed between them. Then she dumped him, suddenly, publically and cruelly, in the middle of the Great Hall. And she walked away with a spring in her step and a swing in her hips, already smiling sweetly at the fifth year boys.

She knows there's nothing serious in it – but they don't – and she doesn't want to hurt anyone anymore – but she does – and she _absolutely does not even a little bit _feel bad when she sees the hurt in his eyes when they meet hers. Not at all.

So she carries on flirting as if it doesn't matter, always feeling his gaze on her back, and feeling his disappointment but it only spurs her on, as if daring him to say something so that she can throw his stupidity back in his face.

But no matter her cruelty, her unfairness, her naiveté that she refuses to acknowledge and her guilt that she won't look in the face, she is entrancing. Like a tornado of fire; even though she's destructive you can't help but be drawn to her when she smiles that smile and bats her shallow eyes.

And she looks like magic.

**Just a quick note - I made the mistake of checking the traffic for this story last night, and I wanted to point out how incredibly frustrating it is to get loads of hits and _no _new reviews. So please, brighten my day and review this! MandyJane x**


	8. Hugo Weasley

Hugo Weasley

Hugo is right in the centre, red hair just like his dad and with all the bluntness and intellect of his mum, laughing and sending a screwed up ball of parchment into the fireplace across the room. He's just thirteen and dying to grow up, to be cool just like his Uncle Charlie.

Well, maybe not _just _like his uncle, because that would mean dragons and they're a bit large for the shortest one in the family – so he goes for Quidditch instead, spending every spare moment flying; on the pitch, around the grounds, through the corridors (though honestly, it wasn't him, Professor, it was Fred, even if the jumper did have an 'H' on it). He had always been good at it, but he'd made it his work to get better and be the best, giving himself up to the sport utterly in the way that only teenage boys can.

He looked the Quidditch player already, small and lean and agile, and he was already on the House Team (yes, as a sub, but his dad doesn't need to know that, does he?), but he seemed oblivious to the fluttering whispering girls who had started to follow him around, missing their badly veiled hints and invitations to Astronomy club with single-minded determination. He loped through the castle with broomstick in hand muttering about complex manoeuvres, and stared into space in lessons as if dreaming about flying (which, given how he falls off his chair regularly, is probably what he is doing).

Yes, he's clueless, but he's young and a boy (as if that excuses him at all) and he's way too busy getting good at it to bother with girls, right? So his older cousins giggle about his complete lack of interest in the opposite sex, and wait for the day when some smart- mouthed girl whisks his heart away like the snitch and he bumblingly tries to get her to like him. Maybe they'll help him. Probably not.

But even if he makes a complete idiot of himself, he only has to jump on a broom and all of a sudden he will be like a bird; decisive, swift and strangely beautiful silhouetted against the sky, weaving and turning and revelling in the freedom of the wind whistling past him as he goes faster and faster and faster.

And he looks like magic.

**Please review!**


	9. Lucy Weasley

Lucy Weasley

Lucy is right in the centre, a small girl with dark auburn hair like her mother and huge dark eyes that are all her own. She's just twelve, all in awe of her wonderful cousins but already starting to glow herself, taking on some of that now-famous Weasley sparkle to illuminate her cute pointed chin and make the heavy waves of hair that fall down her back crackle with unexpected fire.

She's average so far, by their standards, but the whole school watch her, waiting to see what will distinguish this latest addition from the rest of the clan, to see what she'll do that none of the others thought of. She know this, watching them all from behind her thick fringe and just fizzing with ideas and excitement of how she's going to shock them all.

She's a mix of everyone – Dominique's ethereal grace, Rose's deep abiding love, Hugo's determination, Louis' confidence – and yet somehow totally new, an unpredictable cocktail of all the craziness of her relatives that drives them crazy but makes her utterly loveably, completely adorably, wholly infuriating.

Lucy is the one who sneaks up to the roofs at night just to dry her hair, the one who does all her homework at once and then re-writes it in bright purple ink, the girl who wears a shimmering silver dress on Sundays to make her feel like a princess.

She thinks about her future all the time, but not in her sister's whimsical golden fantasies, in plans and bubbly anticipation of the glorious world stretched out before her, all hers for the taking if only she wants to reach out one small, pale hand.

And now she's sitting under Louis' arm, looking around her at these people in wonderment, but with a little smile on her lips as if she knows that yes, they're amazing and unbelievable and it's just enchanting, but she's going to be a hundred thousand million times better than all of them put together, and she is just luxuriating in that delightful secret until she can tell everyone.

And she knows she'll look like magic.

**Please Review!**


	10. Louis Weasley

**I was going to save this for a couple of days...but after the awesome AmandaTheBookworm decided to trawl through all my stuff and scatter reviews, I thought I might as well post this as well :D **

Louis Weasley

Louis looks like he knows everything, sitting with both arms stretched out along the back of the small sofa, no girlfriend, no positions, nothing to distract him from doing exactly as he pleases every second of every day. And he does do as he please, striding around the castle with some new project every day, always moving quickly but somehow finishing everything perfectly, just like his oldest sister.

He looks like a Weasley; tall, powerful, redheaded, charming smile that can send any girl in the vicinity melting to the ground in a puddle of hopes and dreams of moonlight strolls. But he's the only one of them all who worries, all the time.

He worries about James, how he doesn't care about his exams and his future as long as he's happy – but you can't live off happiness. He worries for Dominique, how she's slipping away faster than steam from a train, gradually becoming more and more transparent with every skipped meal. He worries about what Fred will do to be seen as his own person, what he might be driven to. He worries that Molly will never live real life because she's too wrapped up in her fairy stories. He worries that Albus might one day break away, leave them forever in favour of people who seem to value him on the surface. He worries that Roxanne will get hurt, burn out, before she sees that she doesn't need a trail of guys behind her to be beautiful and powerful. He worries that Hugo will play too much, get hurt, be killed even. He worries for Lucy, what she might become with all the confusing influences that surround her all the time. He worries that Lily will never find something lasting if she keeps everything so slick and superficial all the time. He worries for Rose and Scorpius (because don't they always go together?), that they might lose each other under the pressure and the scrutiny and be utterly broken.

And he knows he shouldn't, and he's embarrassed enough to never tell anyone that he thinks these things, because he's a Weasley and they don't worry, they survive. So instead he works at everything, all the time, always trying to invent new spells, curses, potions that will make their lives easier, better, brighter.

You can always find him in some classroom, surrounded by failed attempts, fair skin stained by bright coloured pastes and crumpled ideas surrounding him as the sparks fly.

And he looks like magic.

**Please review!**


	11. Rose Weasley

Rose Weasley

Rose is in an armchair, brown eyes sparkling and looking up at her boyfriend, the ineffable Scorpius. He has one hand resting in her short red curls, idly playing with them while they joke and banter like the closest friends in the world, always a sharp, playful retort at their lips.

They're rarely apart now, reasoning that if they are happy and radiant and in love, why not make the most of it while it lasts? So they walk to lessons together, return to their separate towers as late as they can, wander the grounds hand in hand over lunchtimes in every weather.

Rose always said she wouldn't be dependent on a guy, would never let a relationship define her, and her mother fairly bristled with pride when she declared that at the ripe old age of twelve. And in some ways she hasn't – she's still that fiery girl who jokes and comments sharply at family gatherings. But before Scorpius there was always a slightly spiteful edge to her jokes, an underlying current of meanness and a hint of cruelty. He's softened her, made her more kindly and more womanly, pleased to inspire happy laughter that bounces off the walls like a shining ray of energy.

And she's done the same for him, changing his motivation for all the pranks from embarrassing people to making everyone laugh at themselves, rather than at the humiliation of some poor person who really only wanted some small acceptance. Now they are always found making harmless jokes instead, helping Hugo with his schemes or just charming the castle to surprise people (like the corridor that was suddenly transformed into a fairground, or the singing streamers that festoon the entrance hall right now)

People watch them all the time, wondering how this strange union of two opposing _everythings_ can possibly last, Gryffindor with Slytherin, Weasley with Malfoy, but they don't care. They know, yes, and it bugs them sometimes when people whisper as they go by and make bets on when they'll fight again (because the fights are spectacular) but they know better.

For two people so young, they're frighteningly mature, seeing at once that no matter the fights they're better together, happier, brighter, more content with the world.

So when they hear the whispers they just link hands and smile at each other knowingly, and carry on gliding through life as though they know it all already.

And they look like magic.

**A/N - Two left! And then we can get on to the story snippets :) Thank you all so much for the reviews, you're all quite lovely! **


	12. Lily Luna Potter

Lily Luna Potter

Lily is at the centre of it all, next to Lucy and the undeniable focus of the room. She is the image of her grandmother – all red hair and flashing eyes – but there's not been anyone quite like Lily for a long time.

She's laughing and bantering with them like it's the most natural thing in the world, and she is attracting the attention of everyone else in the immediate area, drawn to her as though summoned. It's like this all the time: in the Great Hall, in lessons, walking through Hogsmeade. She always has a crowd around her, but never the same crowd, not like Roxanne. No, Lily changes all the time, slipping smoothly from clique to clique and always fitting in, always the most popular one there until she leaves, and then they feel her loss like a Lily-shaped hole in the conversation.

She keeps it slick, sweet and superficial, turning compliments and folding them back on the giver, breaking questions like thread so she never has to answer. She presents a different front to each person, so you only ever see what she wants you to see, only what she releases to the public.

She's never been called out, because she never lies, just conceals the whole truth so that she appears more light, bright and sparkling, the perfect foil to any event, so that she's always wanted. She excels at everything, delights in full marks and awards and trophies both in lessons and in life.

But she's never been in love, never had a boyfriend, not even a silly crush that she could now cringe over. She knows that when (if) she does, she'll have to tell the truth, the whole truth. And part of her longs for this, desperately desires to unburden herself and live simply, happily, like Rose. But the rest of her strains against it, pushes these thoughts away into the muggy haze at the back of her mind where right and wrong reside, and this part _revels _in the deceptions, in playing people, in keeping the entire castle dancing to her tune.

And that scares her, scares her so that she lies awake at night staring at the bed hangings and rushes through it all in her fevered mind. Because she's clever, so so clever, and she knows that its bad and wrong and stupid in every way, but she also knows that _she just can't stop. _She's caught up in it now, and to break free she has to cut every tie, every link with these lies, shed herself of the veneer of perfection and be just _Lily_, and what could be more terrifying than that? Because after Queen Lily, a little red-headed twiglet of a girl could never be as popular, as pretty, as wanted.

So maybe that's why she runs, fleeing familiarity and friendship in favour of sparkling all around the place, shallowly rejecting the attempts to pull her in. She flirts with happiness put files her chances away, not realising that they dissolve faster than sugar paper in the rain.

But one day, a day she hopes and prays and needs to come soon, she will triumph. She will throw off all this deceit and craftiness and abiding uncertainty with herself and emerge as Lily: not a namesake, not a hand-me-down, not a perfect girl, not a queen, but _herself._

And she will look like magic.

**A/N - Please don't forget to review!**


	13. Victoire Weasley

**A/N - Okay, this is quite different to how I usually visualise Victoire...I'm not sure why, she just kind of took over!**

Victoire Weasley

Victoire is the absent one (and wasn't she always?), the cousin who stands a little apart at family gatherings and who doesn't quite understand the jokes. She's at home now, curled out on her old sofa around her huge belly, flicking idly through a battered book.

She knows nothing of their struggles, their hopes, dreams, wishes. She's cut off, partly by her own personality and partly by her sister's meek, fearful attitude towards her. Victoire never dreamt Teddy was her sister's (though could he ever been anyone's?), she just knew that this handsome boy with bright eyes and entrancing smile was the most perfect thing she'd ever seen, the engine her life was waiting for to get started.

She'd not wanted much, even from a young age. When everyone else was planning to be Aurours and Healers and Curse-Breakers, all Victoire wanted was a little family, a sweet house and someone to love her forever. And not to love her for her silver-gilt hair or big blue eyes or long lither legs, but to love her for the way she can never get cakes right, the way that she sings off-key when she's happy, for the frayed ribbons she ties her hair up with when she's working. She wanted someone who would see through those detestable genes and heritage and see _Victoire._

She's more connected to them than she believes: how the girls look up to her and the boys try to impress her still, but she feels out of it all. And maybe it's just the pregnancy, and maybe it'll go away, but _maybe_ her sister's reproachful gaze all the way from Scotland is the thing driving the happiness from her heart and making her sick to her stomach with guilt for a crime she doesn't fully recognise.

Teddy never told her, just fell into her life and threw himself into loving her, so she's still not sure. She knows there was someone, something, when they met that held him back for a moment, made him look at her with confusion in his eyes as though she should be someone else, but she's pushed it from her mind. She clings to his carefree laugh and clumsy hands, praying that he won't remember whatever it was he forgot, praying with all her self for every moment of every day.

So she does sit at the side at family gatherings, and smiles quietly and laughs softly even when she doesn't understand, and she does just what Dominique does, and shrinks. Not from sorrow, not from loss, but because she's too busy thinking about Teddy, about how she needs him. Loves him, yes, above all else, but she needs him too, more than even she knows.

She used to shine, to crackle and burn and soar high in the sky like the most obnoxiously beautifully loud firework in the world – but that left. She's changed as well, just as Rose has and yet in an utterly new way. Because instead of becoming better, softer, happier with love, she has become less of herself, less of a person in her desperation to hold on to him.

But when her guard is down and the nausea has fled, she'll put her hand on her stomach and feel contentment, happiness, and she'll joke and laugh louder than anyone and her relentless _life _will come back and once again she will be glorious, triumphant, victorious., just like she used to be.

Because she looked like magic.

**Please don't forget to review! X**


	14. The Time That Molly Grew Up A Little

**A/N - Okay, I've finally figured out how I'm going to structure the rest of this story! I'm probably going to do six chapters on each character (though that might rise to twelve...), always in a different order and each with their own storyline - but they do all come together for the end, for an epilogue-type-thing. But for now, enjoy!**

The Time That Molly Grew Up A Little

She was just being Molly, sitting all wrapped up in herself and her dreams and this story in a corner of the common room, on her usual worn blue velvet chair. She was (predictably) engrossed in the book, bright eyes moving slowly over the beautiful illuminated text, hair falling across her face as the late afternoon sun silhouetted her against the window.

No-one else noticed her, just carried on chatting or laughing or being loud and bombastic and earthly. But he noticed that she wasn't, she wasn't solid or dependable or even very present, but she was so much more than that. She was an ethereal, airy creature who spoke with her heart in her eyes and dreamt with her entire being.

So he crossed the room to her, not quickly and decisively, but slowly, ponderingly, never taking his eyes off her. He skirted around the couches, around the tables, around the first years playing gobstones on the floor, stopping a few metres from her and just waiting.

She looked up, quickly, eyes darting up to his face.

And suddenly, he was afraid, deathly afraid. Because he couldn't just make some joke and make her laugh and suddenly ask her out – somehow that was too normal, too average for her.

But then she smiled at him, shyly, quietly, prettily.

And he grinned back, confident again, and crouched down by her side, one arm behind her, looking over her shoulder at the book.

"Looks like you've nearly finished" he commented

"Yeah" she sighed, leaning back a little "and I don't know what I'm going to do. My parents can't send me another because they're too heavy for the owls to carry, and I've read all the good ones in the library"

"Well, we could go down to Hogsmeade if you wanted another" he said, carefully, slowly, hopefully "I mean, together."

She blushed and looked down for a second (and yes, he was a little disappointed) but then she smiled at him, a real smile, not some half-hearted apologetic faint smile but a real one. And he felt like the sun was rising all over again.

"I'd like that"

"Great"

"Yeah, it is"

And they both knew they sounded silly, and they knew they looked silly, just sitting there smiling at each other, completely blissed out. But at the same time, it was wonderful.

And Molly thought about it later, and decided that she didn't care, because it was perfect in that moment. And when they went to Hogsmeade she didn't buy the story book, but a blank notebook bound in purple leather.

Because she thought that maybe this time, her story might be more interesting than any in the book.

**Please review!**


	15. The Time That Albus Was Most Important

**Happy Friday everyone! Here's Albus' 2nd chapter just before the weekend swallows you all whole :)**

The Time That Albus Was The Most Important

He'd just come from the Entrance Hall, where everyone was fussing and laughing and being the perfect picture of the perfect family full of perfect people who all love each other perfectly.

But he had still been pushed to the side, standing uncertainly at the edges of the conversation and snatching at straws to offer dry remarks that weren't noticed anyway.

But he'd waited until they all dispersed of their own accord, rather than slipping away early, and he had been left there against the cold stone wall, somehow less alone than he had been when surrounded by the casually, accidentally cruel atmosphere of his family. And now he was striding along the path to Hogsmeade, resentment and anger swirling in his mind and twisting every mulled-over comment from his cousins into a spiteful jibe.

The cold wind blew past him as he stepped onto the wooden bridge, whistling inferrations of inferiority as it caught at his jacket and buffeted against his shoulders. It was loud enough that he almost didn't hear the shouts behind him.

"Albus! Wait!"

He turned, hope springing to the front of his mind as he wondered which of his family wanted to talk to him, just to him, and hear what he wanted to say.

A slight, dark haired girl rushed along the bridge to him, blue coat flapping.

"Thank Merlin, I thought I'd never catch you" she said breathlessly, and continued without giving him a chance to talk "Listen, there's a group of us meeting at the Hog's Head in about an hour to talk about the new theories on whether unicorn blood should be used to save lives, and we were wondering if you wanted to join us"

She looked at him expectantly, black eyebrows tilted upwards as she waited for his response.

"Ah" he said, taken by surprise "Well, I…I mean, yes. That would be interesting, I suppose" She grinned, and immediately slipped her arm through his and began to march him towards the village, chattering all the way, asking questions and listening to all his answers as though they were the most important thing in the world.

And when they got to the Hog's Head he was sat in the chair at the middle of the table, the middle of the discussion, and everyone asked his thoughts first, and valued them.

It felt amazing, to be wanted and needed and admired for these things which he'd never valued before; to have people realise what his family did not, to care about him when they didn't.

And so this became a weekly thing: meeting at the bridge, wandering down to the pub together, talking about things beyond school, beyond their limited view and planning everything they would one day do to make it better, to change the world and become known for themselves rather than the acts of their ancestors.

**Please review!**


	16. The Time That Roxanne Was Childish

**A/N - So, I realise that a lot of you felt that Roxanne wasn't great in her last chapter (One person PMed me saying she was a hateful slag...definitely made me laugh!) and hopefully this will bring out the more sympathetic edge I was going for. I certainly can identify with Roxanne, and I think most people can, because at some point we're all going to be in a situation that we want to get out of and don't know how. Anyway, I hope this clears things up...**

The Time That Roxanne Was Childish

She gets tired of it a lot, all this messiness she's wrapped up in now. It's like a ribbon tied around her wrist – silky and pretty and soft and you love it most of the time just because it's yours and it's different, but eventually you realise that it's tied all around you, cutting into your skin and making it impossible to move away from it, and every time you move the colour brands itself into your skin so that even when (if) you do escape everyone will always know what used to be around you, who you used to be.

And all she wants right now is to get away, to run far from all these cloying caresses and stupid boys to where the air is cool and she feels clean, not grubby and dirty and covered in fingerprints. Because they all follow her, all the time, so she has not a single moment of each day alone. She is surrounded from breakfast to when she flees to her dorm in the evening with a coquettish smile that covers up a desperate expression.

She knows she's trapped, because however far she distances herself from this brassy, shameless girl she's become there'll always be someone who presumes and goes too far and tries to draw her back in (and after so long, she's afraid the habits are stronger than her good intentions) and that scares her more than most things do.

That's why she tries to escape sometimes, and how she came to be here, shut inside this pokey little room, sitting in a dusty corner. It's musty and old and it smells a little strange, but she's happy just to be quiet and _alone _for a little while, no-one accusing or assuming anything about her, no harsh laughter or hot breath on her neck.

And she's so _tired_ of being mature (too mature) and brazen and jaded, so she gets out the little blue pot that she's had in her pocket for the last few days, unscrews the lid and blows a bubble through the silver wand.

A stream of pearly spheres streams out from it and they begin to shimmer and sparkle in the light streaming through the high window, mixing with the dust and turning a thousand different colours. Roxanne sends stream after stream of bubbles into the room until they are whirling around in a shiny whirlwind, and then instead of watching them she dives straight into the eye and spins with the bubbles, her face reflected a hundred thousand times as she laughs and laughs and laughs, the sheer childish delight in the colours overtaking her and spinning her dejection into that special, summery bliss that only comes with stupid happiness.

As soon as she replaces the lid on the pot, the bubbles disappear, the magic over, and she puts her outside face back on for the rest of the world. And when she leaves she is once again Roxanne, the slut. But she remembers the room, and she remembers the sorrow and pain that come with realising your mistakes and knowing that right now you're powerless to fix them. But she also knows that if she ever wants to fix all the other things you've done wrong, then this time she probably needs to fix herself: to be the little girl who spent hours surrounded by bubbles again.

**Please review!**


	17. The Time That Hugo Got Hurt

**A/N - Merci a thousand times for all your reviews! Back to Hugo now...**

The Time That Hugo Got Hurt

He hadn't meant to, of course, that would have been dumb. He'd just sort of…forgotten about the ground, that's all. And now he was all wrapped up in blankets in the Hospital Wing waiting for his family to appear and rip him to shreds for being stupid.

It had happened like this: he'd gone out to the pitch (and yes, maybe it was pitch dark after dinner in wintertime) and he had forgotten his own broom so he'd borrowed one from the school shed (and yes, it was really old and not very reliable, but he didn't really care) and he'd just leapt on it straight away and zoomed up into the sky to try out this new manoeuvre.

And okay, he should have got into his stride a little instead of trying it right away, and yes, it is a very hard trick even in daylight with your own broom, but he was excited (and he's a thirteen year old boy, so what can you do?)

So he had gone for it, flown fast into the series of flips and twists required, and it had worked, perfectly! And he'd whooped and celebrated and thrown his hands in the air for a moment before getting faster and faster for a victory lap.

And he'd ploughed right into the frozen ground outside the Herbology classrooms, the broom snapping on impact and his head smashing into the ground and all the fast furious motion ending in still, ominous night.

The next thing he remembers is waking up here, eyes too heavy to move, limbs numb with cold despite all the coverings, and a strange muggy feeling in his head. He hadn't even tried to move yet, not willing to see what he'd broken this time. And Merlin, his mum was going to kill him. The Howler would be here any day now – providing she didn't come herself to tell him off. His dad probably wouldn't mind too much – last time he just sent chocolate and a picture of Mum's face when she found out, to cheer Hugo up a bit.

Hugo began to think that maybe he'd like to see what was going on, so he made the mammoth effort to open his eyes….and failed. He decided toes might be a better bet, so he tried that. Nothing.

After a few minutes (hours?) he decided to try eyes again, and so he slowly wrenched them open, blurry with sleep and various potions. The room slowly came into focus.

His bed was surrounded but figures, tall and short, with predominantly red hair. Hugo groaned internally.

"What" one of the girls began threateningly "in the name of Circe's magic staff, do you think you're doing?"

_I think I'm in trouble_

**Please review!**


	18. The Time That Lucy Made Them All Stare

**A/N - There's something about Lucy which makes her SO much fun to write...enjoy x**

The Time That Lucy Made Them All Stare

Lucy's loving this, the way they're all just wondering at her, goggle eyed in shock and surprise (and she knows that it will eventually be good, even if it takes them a while to get used to this new development). She's standing alone in the centre of the group, watching her little group of birds fly higher and higher above her head and smiling inside as she realises that they're never going to forget this, not one of them.

It started that morning, when the Ravenclaw girls in her year started boasting about how much they'd learnt that summer. They'd gloated, snide remarks sneaking out like poisonous serpents to bite and nip and inject their venom into everyone's minds, making them all suddenly unsure of themselves, because that's what young girls do when they're too confident.

So she just smiled to herself again, and let them talk, carefully noting down everything they said. And she waited, and waited, and waited, until they were walking down to Herbology between lessons, and then she called them out on it.

"So, will you show us then? If you're so good at it, I'd like to be able to see what you can do"

You could hear the gasps, the shock at being called out, see the horrified looks they exchanged as what she was asking of them slowly dawned on minds swollen with their own importance. The ringleader stepped forward, tossing her hair back with a confrontational gleam in her eye.

"Fine then, ginger" she sneered, getting her wand out "You want a show? How about _this_."

She extended her arm gracefully above her head, twirling the tip of her wand in a series of tiny twists that would form a four-leafed clover on paper, and then dipped it slowly down and made a circle around herself on the ground. She looked Lucy dead in the eye and spoke, just one word.

"Auge!"

After a little moment, a stream of golden sparks shot up around her, settling on her sensible school shoes and transforming them into delicate, golden high heels. She smirked at Lucy, triumphant.

"_There_." She announced, as her flunkies clapped "Let's see you beat that, Weasley"

"Oh, I didn't realise you wanted that much showing off" Lucy said innocently, smiling sweetly around the circle. "Of course, if that's all…"

Lucy quietly, calmly, tranquilly got her wand out, and waved it in a small circle above her head. At once, without her making a sound, a shower of silvery stars flew up in the air and sprinkled themselves down on the little group, all moving instinctively towards Lucy. They covered her clothes, changing colours and fabrics and layers until she was wearing a Cinderella of a dress, all made of moonshine and wishes, and her skin glowed like a Veela's hair and her eyes were brighter than the hopes of a mother and she shone more than the first dawn of a new year.

And now they are just staring at her, struck dumb in wonder at the appearance of this stunning beauty before them, this diminutive girl with the dark red hair who has suddenly been transformed into an angelic figure.

"But…but that's non-verbal spells!" whispers one of the spiteful girls to her friend, the light of fear in her eyes "even my dad can't do those properly"

"Oh, they aren't that difficult" Lucy smiled at them "You just need to know exactly what you want"

And with that, she waved her wand down the length of her body and was changed back into her normal garb, just the average Hogwarts student. But as she left the little gathering she turned around again, and looked the Ravenclaw girl dead in the eye and spoke to her.

"Maybe you should learn a little more before next time, Amelia"

And then she smiled, a terrible smile full of knowledge and plans and sheer determination that froze the cocky girl in her shoes, and she walked away. But the next time they saw her, she wasn't just Lucy anymore. There was still that shimmer on her skin, that hint of ancient knowledge and clashing weapons lurking behind her eyes that made them all think twice. Because this is a girl to be reckoned with.

**Please review!**


	19. The Time That Louis Mixed Too Much

**A/N - I know, I know, its been an little shard of forever since the last chapter! Life ran away with me a little, many apologies to you all :) But hopefully this makes up for it, enjoy!**

The Time That Louis Mixed Too Much

He was in one of the classrooms long abandoned for the evening, when all the cheerful, warm bustle had left the seats cold and the desks covered in ink, dust settling before it is disturbed once more. Surrounded by his usual jumble of pots and glass vases and little brass cauldrons, all emitting colourful smokes, Louis is in his element.

Calm, utterly absorbed with his work, he moves his hands quickly through the piles of ingredients, seeking more through intuition than sight and every so often grasping on to some idea and throwing more things into the cauldron, causing sparks and bubbles and steam that engulfs him and makes his fair hair seem every shade in the rainbow.

You can see the frenetic intelligence that makes him so brilliant, so sparklingly clever at devising these new potions and spells that make life easier – spells to lighten burdens, to calm minds and ease pains.

But today, something is a little off, a little wrong. His hands are a bit unsure, hesitating occasionally above the cauldron as doubt creeps into those glorious grey eyes so like his mother's – but he doesn't slow down, stop, take a break. No, because that's not Louis. He works faster and faster, throwing things in without thinking about it and not caring what happens. A little crowd gathers at the doorway, peering in, and some of them trickle through to watch closer (though still too scared to get near).

Among them is a girl with a purple streak in her hair, half hidden behind her ear. She isn't watching the pot, the billowing smoke or the occasional sparks like the others.

She's watching him, pale eyes locked onto his, filled with curiosity and a sort of respect at the frantic activity before her. After a moment he notices, and meets her gaze, locking on to this angular, Nordic girl who looks at him like a person rather than a specimen.

His hands still, full of some unrecognisable green herb, and his jaw slackens a little as she draws him in further. Black smoke starts to emerge from the cauldron.

One of the other spectators lets out a little shriek, and all at once the flames flare and Louis drops far too much in and the smoke triples in amount and suddenly the room is utterly engulfed, and everyone rushes out except Louis, coughing and spluttering.

But when the smoke clears, she's there too, still standing in the same place but all darkened with soot, big smudges around her eyes where she's rubbed them. She smiles at him, teeth scarily white against the ash that covers her face.

"Hello" she says, her vowels sharp as if she comes from one of those icy countries where the people look like elves, across the Northern Sea "My name's Ailsa."

He stares at her, knowing somewhere in the back of his befuddled mind that he's being an idiot and should say something back. But it turns out that maybe, just maybe, Louis shouldn't mix girls with explosions. Because it makes life a lot more complicated.

She laughs, a wicked little chuckle just full of suppressed delight at the state she's brought him to.

"I suppose I'll see you later then. Have fun clearing this up."

And then she's going, with a devilish smirk and a quick wink as she swing out of the door. And Louis is just confused, so very confused.

**Please review!**


	20. The Time That Rose Snapped

**A/N - I hit 10,000 words last chapter! Exciting stuff! Which is why this is going up tonight instead of on Friday as planned. I hope you like this one - it was great fun to write, especially as I've considered doing things like this in the not-so-distant past, and it's a slightly different focus from the other stories...**

The Time That Rose Snapped

She feels bad about it now, shouting at them all, but it had been such a hard day. She's woken up late and hadn't had any breakfast, and then she hadn't been able to find her Transfiguration homework, and then Scorpius hadn't met her after school because he forgot he had practice so she'd been standing in the cold courtyard for twenty minutes, and she had so much work to do and she had to wash her hair and then Molly said she wanted to talk to her and Hugo was in the hospital wing and Dominique looked so incredibly ill and Fred was in trouble and it was all just _too much to deal with._

And then those _stupid _Third Years had all been messing around in the corridors, charming things to fly at girls and making a lot of noise, and complaining about how much work _they _had and generally being so disruptive, and it was just a step too far. She might have been able to deal with it if they hadn't poured water on her – but they had, so I suppose we'll never know.

She'd whirled around on them, normally calm demeanour dissolved into one of the rages her mother had been famous for, and drawn herself up so that she towered over them, dripping water everywhere. It should have been comic, and to her friends it certainly would have been, but to some immature little boys, the angry sixth-year was a figure to be reckoned with. They turned to run, but she froze them with a shout.

"Hey! Come back here right now!"

They slunk back in, instinctively trying to hide behind each other.

"What" she asked menacingly "do you ruddy well think you're doing? This is a _corridor, _not a joke shop, and these are _people, _not targets. In what world is it appropriate to _harass _students like this? Well?"

They shuffled their feet nervously, except for one. An overconfident blonde boy, Hufflepuff, stared her straight in the eye.

"It was only fun" he declared, evoking gasps from the nervous lookers-on who had seen Rose Weasley angry before and recognised the challenging glare she directed at him "If'n you had a sense of humour you'd get it. But s'okay, lots of girls don't"

He squared his shoulders proudly and looked around as though he'd made a great joke. The expectant faces of the bystanders may have alerted him to the fuming redhead before him.

She glinted at him dangerously.

He began to look a little afraid.

So Rose slowly drew out her wand.

He definitely looked scared now.

And then, she smiled.

"I know you" she said pleasantly, but bars of steel hid behind her words and gave him an awful sense of foreboding "You're Terence Bodie. Your mother is Araminta Bodie – She and my mum play chess every week. Does your mother know about your activities here, Terence?"

Now he was quaking in his shoes, face pale and a cold sweat on his little forehead.

"I didn't think so" Rose said "Well, watch out for the next post, Terence. And meanwhile, ten points from Hufflepuff for being disrespectful and a further half-point from Hufflepuff for every girl in this corridor that you just insulted. That's, let me see, another fifty points. Now, I suggest you get back to your common room before you slip up and upset someone else, yes?"

They fled before her, and Rose stalked up to her room, staring down anyone in her way, and spent the rest of the evening having a long hot bath and giggling to herself about how long it would take Terence to realise that she hadn't written to his mother at all.

**Please review!**


	21. The Time That Lily Looks For Reality

**A/N - Lily again! There is a method to the order of these chapters, by the way! Hopefully it will become apparent in the end :) Thanks so much for all the reviews, I am incredibly grateful!**

The Time That Lily Looks For Something Real

She's in her element, laughing, smiling, fizzing with her own marvellous electricity as if the world is perfect and she is too – at least on the surface. But her eyes are searching and a strange sort of worry lurks beneath them, even if no-one knows it.

Because she knows that something is off, something is a little wrong, just like a jug with no handle or a face with no eyebrows. She's always been so good at reading people, instinctively knowing how to make them laugh and feel at ease and like her, just like Louis knows how to make a potion work perfectly.

But tonight…tonight she's not quite right, and she can tell from the slightly confused looks at remarks that normally would provoke uncontrollable laughter, from the people who make excuses and escape her company with relieved glances at their friends who remain, and those ones look strained and uncomfortable.

So she ends her little spiel early, feigning tiredness, and she herself whisks out of the Hall like some fiery Valkyrie who is followed by the souls of heroes, but nothing follows Lily this time.

She flees, you see, and tries to find something that ties her down to the ground and gives her something that is incontrovertibly true and real and _good, _because that's hard to come by in her world of casual, uncaring conversations.

And what does she come to but the library? The dim, highvaulted room with little domes of warm yellow light where people are reading still. And she swishes through the columns of books, robe stiffing the dust and letting her smell that musty, homely scent that hides betwixt the pages of old books.

She comes to the little, hidden away corner where there is a wide window seat with a worn blue cushion on it, and a little girl with long dark hair shielding her face is hunched over a huge leathery book on the seat, engrossed in the story, but squinting and yawning with fatigue.

So Lily sits on the other side, pulls Molly into the crook of her arm and takes the tome into her own hands, settling down and breathing in the mixed aromas of the book and her twelve year old cousin's hair, which immediately brings back the bittersweet memories of younger Christmases, when everything was simpler.

And then she reads, in her real voice, not the sharp, high, glassy one she uses at the moment. Her sweet, rich voice that hides inside her for fear of corruption, but that comes out when it is really Lily here. And she gets lost in the fairytale, at once swept up into the world of perfect princesses and chivalrous knights and brave kings, where black is black and white is white and there are no shades of grey. She is magnificent while reading it, though she can't see it, sitting in the light of a dying day with the sun crowning her head and turning her sweet, serious face into the beauty that she could be if she would just let herself.

And she never finishes the story, but stops just before the end, when the princess and knight have been reunited and are just beginning, not ending. And she too nods off, leaning her head against the windowpane and dreaming of tomorrow with a little bit of hope, a little bit of love, and a little bit of a princess filed away the corner of her heart.

**Please review!**


	22. The Time That Victoire Had An Idea

**A/N - Happy weekend! Well, half-weekend now, at least in England. Anyway, here is chapter 22 (I'm so utterly floored by that number) and In hope you like it!**

The Time That Victoire Had An Idea

She drags the paintbrush down the wall slowly, leaving a thick trail of creamy yellow paint behind it, covering up the old white base that is gradually disappearing, eaten up by the sunshiny colour she's chosen. She's smiling softly, humming a sweet little song she half-remembers from her own childhood, the paint pot on a bench beside her so that she doesn't have to bend over. She's the picture of domestic happiness, almost like a painting, this slender reed-like girl with the hugely pregnant belly that almost looks unnatural, but at the same time adds a whole new level to the scene: the promise of development, of chances, of a family.

She's reading Molly's letter over in her mind, delighting in the young girl's newly discovered confidence and hope and the sense of joy that creeps through her words and infects the world – Victoire doesn't know why, but she can tell that Molly is changing, for the better.

But that brings in thoughts of her own sister, the ever present worry bubbling back to the surface and causing sudden pain at the base of her skull, a flash that continues as a slow, determined ache. Of course it does, it's not as if the thought of Dominique would make Vic happy right now, even though they were once closer than anyone else in the world. That just makes it worse, the difference between the past connection and the current indifference driving home that _something _went wrong, even if one of them has no idea what, and the other isn't sure if she should be blaming her sister or the boy.

Victoire puts the brush down and lowers herself carefully into a worn armchair that Teddy carried up for her this morning, before he went off to work. She absently rubs her stomach, closing her eyes as her headache begins to fade just a little bit. She tries to muggily sort through her thoughts about Dom, her sleepy brain putting all the wrong numbers together and coming up with half the total.

_She's just so quiet all the time, even when everyone's here. Its like she's afraid of not fitting in, afraid that if she does something then she'll be rejected and thrown out. But why wouldn't she write to me about it?_

_Oh Merlin, it's the baby. She must feel left out, after I've been so wrapped up in Teddy and everything since we found out – why wouldn't she be? It's always been Dom and I together, and she must be afraid that this is going to mess all that up. Come to think of it, that's when this all started, really. I mean, she was a little quieter after the engagement was announced, but everyone was a little surprised, just when Teddy and I told them we were together._

_But how can I make her see that she's still a part of my little family as well as the big one? Teddy won't be any help, he hardly notices her. I suppose she's a bit too young at the moment for them to have a real conversation – there is a five year age gap. It's not as if they're going to be great friends until she grows up a little, but even then they might be a bit too different to get along well. Hm…Oh! _

_I can ask her to be godmother! That'll make her feel more at home at once! Dom and I are already sisters, after all, but now Teddy will really be her brother as well, and then she can come and stay with us sometimes, and we can be a real family, real friends. It's perfect, just perfect._

So Victoire wove her little plot, and wrote her gushing, excited letter to her sister, every joyful word inscribed with such hope that Dominique almost hated her all the more, with every dagger-sharp phrase ripping through her childish dreams. But then, how could Vic know? How could she ever have figured out?

**Please review!**


	23. The Time That James Went Too Far

**A/N**** - Right, we're back to James again...I got some messages saying you all thought he was a little bit perfect last chapter, but he's still human (and he's a teenage boy - we know from experience that they can mess up!), hence this chapter's story.**

The Time That James Went Too Far

He had been frustrated that day, by the slowness of the other students and the way that everything just seemed so pedestrian, so easy, so _boring. _For James there's nothing worse than boredom – he's more active than anyone is. Even Louis has his moments of lassitude, late at night when he's too sleepy to think, but James is always going, always working on something or forming some plan or declaiming to some audience.

And today is no different: now that school is over he's striding down the corridors to the Head Boy's study, a dangerous look on his face that prevents anyone from stopping him for some stupid request. He bursts through the door and fairly runs to his desk, rummaging through the stacks of papers. His pretty, soft-spoken girlfriend looks up from the sofa, smiling as she sees him.

"James, what on earth are you doing?" she says, with laughter in her voice, her nondescript face transforming with happiness

"I'm looking for that notice" he replies tersely, angrily "You haven't moved it, have you?"

She frowns a little, not sure how to read his tone "No, I've not touched anything on your desk" she replies, sitting up and regarding him over the back of the old sofa "Which notice? Can I help?"

He shrugs, back turned, and responds with a series of mutters that only make her bristle.

"James. _James!_ What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" He lospins around, eyes wild with frustration but not looking at her "What's wrong is _everything_ in the stupid school! All the idiot pupils, the slow teachers, the useless rules and the people who mess up my study when they should know better!"

She flinches, looking hurt "I'm going to go" she says in a tight voice, rising from her seat "and I'll see you when you're a little calmer"

But he strides across the room, catching her arm in a vice-like grip before she can take another step

"No." he says loudly "No, don't just brush this off and be all meek and mild and accepting. Why do you always have to be so bloody good all the time? Why can't you just get angry and shout at me sometimes? It's obvious that you are angry, so bloody well show it!"

She looks at him, and it's true that you can see the anger in her face as she looks at his hand gripping her arm with distaste and disdain.

"Let go of me, James"

The command is quiet, but decided from her clipped tone, and he releases her, stalking away and leaning against the mantelpiece. He hears her go, the soft rush of air as she shuts the door quietly behind her, and after a moment he spins around, grabs an ugly little ornament and flings it into the fireplace.

Then he throws himself down on the floor, slumped against the wall with his hands over his face, disgusted.


	24. The Time That Dominique Got Lost

**A/N - Dominique again! I'm interested to see what you think of this girl, because she's a little bit confused herself. And this chapter is _officially_ dedicated to silenced_doubts, because she actually put the link to this story on her profile! I'm extremely flattered :) Anyway, enjoy!**

The Time That Dominique Got Lost

The letter almost killed her, with its casually, accidentally cruel wishes and awful, awful implications.

She and Teddy – _family. _She could just see her sister's dream: them all sitting together in some sunny garden, the baby playing on the grass in front of them. Victoire would go into the house to get some lemonade, leaving Dom and Teddy to watch the baby. They would chat, cheerfully, shallowly, platonically, just like the perfect brother and sister, even if the 'age gap' meant that they could never be 'truly close'.

The saddest part is that Victoire saw right to the heart of the issue, even in her twisted, roundabout way that gave her entirely the wrong motives and meanings. Yes, Dom felt out of place, but no, not because she didn't know Teddy. In fact, it was because she knew him too well, was too attuned to his every thought and wish and hope, even now.

And Dominique couldn't cope, couldn't deal with this awful, sterilised view of the future where every emotion was pushed down, down, down where it wouldn't spoil Vic's idyllic little life, where everything was painted perfect before anyone saw it and judged.

She didn't really have a destination in mind, she just couldn't stay in the common room where everyone was cooing over the pictures and raving about her luck and her sister's generosity and how heartbreakingly perfect everything would be. She just walked, wandered, carried along by her hollow body until she was outside, standing on the big stone balcony outside the transfiguration classroom. It was freezing, and the wind was racing along the castle walls, catching her hair and ripping it along fiercely, dragging her robes against her thin limbs.

She stood at the edge, leaning two long-fingered hands on the stone balustrade and tipping herself forward a little bit, just a little bit, just enough to see all the way down to the jagged rocks by the lakeshore. She swayed, perhaps because of the wind, perhaps because the weight that rested on her frail shoulders was overbalancing her, sending her just a little too far over the edge of endurance.

And for a moment, a glorious moment, she hung in the balance, her life hung in the balance, as gravity seemed to disappear. A beautiful feeling of calm crept through her limbs as they relaxed, and the awful screeching of the storm retreated into the background of her mind, and she imagined she heard the sweetest sound in the world: his voice, saying her name in all the wonderment and surprise and beauty of love. She hovered there, half falling, half stepping back, entirely at the mercy of the wind and the rain and her own capricious emotions.

But she caught herself, as she always did, and with the greatest amount of strength she had needed until now she wrenched herself back from the precipice, racing inside the door and crumpling to the floor, gasping in horror, her hair stuck to her neck with rainwater. Almost at once she threw herself onto her feet and ran out of the door, down the stairs and into the night, slipping past people's consciences like a shadow, quickly forgotten. She ran as if all the furies were after her, fighting the wind for her breath until she reaches the lakeshore, and she looks across at the rocks that she would have fallen to, could have fallen to, if she wasn't so…Dominique.

Because in her fevered, confused mind, she might not be lucky, she might be the unluckiest girl to ever be alive. Part of her is grasping for reason, desperately trying to cling on to some semblance of the old her, but she's too far away now. She's almost totally lost.

**Please review!**


	25. The Time That Fred Made A Plan

**A/N - I know, this is a lot shorter than ususal, but it's majorly setting up Fred's next chapter and is totally necessary, so please forgive me :)**

The Time That Fred Made A Plan

She'd been turning up everywhere since that day by the fireplace, this strange, dark girl. Whenever he pulled off a brilliant trick, she'd be there at the sidelines, not laughing like the others but quietly judging with unreadable eyes. But when he got it wrong, and had to quickly disable all his traps before he was found out, she saw him and her amused gaze followed him around, vaguely mocking.

And it infuriated him, like having an older sibling read over your shoulder or a teacher fix you with a patronising gaze when you missed a question in lessons. She just always seemed so right, so exactly on point and so _constantly _present that he couldn't escape her.

He'd begun to notice her _all the time _now: in lessons he could hardly concentrate for trying to interpret her every movement, in the corridor he watched her as she passed, almost unable to tear his eyes away from her quick head weaving through the crowds.

He realised that she watched people from under her eyelashes to get the measure of them, that she listened more than she talked, but when she did speak everyone hung on her every word. He learnt that she took some time to smile, and when she bestowed a real grin it was as dazzling as a genuine Filibuster, and he ended up memorising her face almost by accident.

He doesn't know why, but she's in his thoughts all the time (and wouldn't she just thrill to hear that?) and that frustrates him, because he can't think without her creeping in on every plan and beckoning him with her velvet eyes and her dangerous smile.

So he decides with the pig-headedness of a fourteen year old who thinks he knows everything and yet understands almost nothing, that this has to stop, and she needs to be taken down a peg or seven. And Fred holes himself up in his room, all his resources spread around him, and he begins to make a plan. He doesn't really have a set idea other than revenge, even if he's not sure what for, so he uses everything, arranging it all in complex patterns to trap a pretty girl (but she's not really pretty, just…something. Something else. He's decided on that.)

**Please review!**


	26. A Detention For Hugo

**A/N - Hi everyone :) Fingers crossed you like this too: it's a different side of Hugo to see! And to MagicGal, the anonymous reviewer of the day, I've taken your comments on board, and thanks very much for them as well! Enjoy!**

A Detention For Hugo

He was sick of it, that's all he knew. I mean, first of all he had to spend ages in the Hospital Wing getting better, and then he couldn't fly for ages, and now all his cousins were giving him a hard time for being an idiot – even Fred – and on top of all that, Rose had written to mum and dad, so he'd probably be getting a howler any day now. It was enough to make any boy angry.

And if the boy was like Hugo, all sleepy on the surface but shockingly determined when you weren't watching him, then getting him annoyed was probably a little imprudent. And when it was obvious that he was annoyed, then pushing him was very imprudent. Even if you are a teacher.

"Mr Weasley. Mr Weasley, will you answer the question please. _Mr Weasley sit up and listen to the lesson" _Professor Griffiths snapped at him, her steely eyes fixing the boy with an angry glare as she held some slimy green creature out of its tank with a charm. She smiled, dangerously, with the look of a teacher who knows they're about to be impossibly unfair and yet doesn't care at all because they truly believe the student deserves a wake up call. "Mr Weasley, please list the characteristics that this creature can be identified by"

Hugo regarded her balefully from under the brown hair that fell across his eyes "Well, it's green. And slimy. And you have it in your office. So It's probably just dangerous enough to be interesting, but not dangerous enough to do anyone real damage in case you lose control of it"

Professor Griffiths bristled angrily, lowering the animal into the tank with a splash and sending sheets of parchment onto every desk with a contemptuous flick of her wand.

"To correct Mr Weasley's ignorance" she said icily "You will _all _write me six inches of parchment on the identification of every green creature we have studied so far. And by that I mean every animal with even the faintest trace of green, inside or out. By Friday."

The class groaned, most of them turning to glare at Hugo, who just shrugged and replied glibly, with the faintest hint of a smirk behind his scowl.

"Bet you'll have fun marking that then Professor. Wouldn't it be easier to just go out if you wanted something to do in the evenings?"

The teacher spun around, incensed with anger, and strode over to Hugo's desk, where she stood in front of him, much in the style of some ancient warlord.

"Mr Weasley" she said, voice trembling with fury "Not only will you do the extra writing, but you will have detention every night for the next two weeks, and take forty points from Gryffindor for your insolence"

Hugo shrugged

"Fifty points then, and I want ten seven inches on each animal now, from all of you"

Hugo was about to reply, but the boy beside him jabbed him hard in the thigh with a quill, so he couldn't dig himself any deeper into this hole.

After the lesson, there was nothing but resentful glares for Hugo, but he trudged up to his dormitory regardless, already thinking about Quidditch practice and that new manoeuvre that he couldn't get quite right.

**Please review!**


	27. A Party For Lucy

**A/N - This, I think, is a darling chapter about a darling girl, and I hope you like reading it as much as I liked writing it :)**

A Party For Lucy

This is all because of her, that's all she can think, all these people are here because she asked them to be, because she chose to invite them, and the childish thrill she gets from that is just delicious enough to hold on to. She's sparkling ever so slightly, flitting around the room like a whimsical breeze of absolute bliss, too happy to stay in one place for very long at all.

She's more of a child tonight than she's been all year, and ironically this is the night that she's meant to grow up a little (or at least just get older). She's darling and delightful, all light and bright in her sweet blue dress with her red hair tied up in a ribbon that Victoire has sent. The room matches her, draped in pale fabrics but permeated with a gorgeous shimmering light that makes everything look like a dream, a little unbelievable but shockingly clear and focused and perfect.

There are groups of little tables at the side piled high with food, and a set of dusty old instruments in the corner have been polished up and charmed to play dear little tunes that should match the fairytales told in their childhood, but tonight match Lucy. Everyone is sitting around, talking, laughing, smiling at the beautiful little girl who seems so charmingly innocent of everything difficult that she's spellbinding in her own way.

She's created a little world here, where everything is happy and good and sweet, and they're finding that they don't want to leave. Because when they do there are other things to consider, like work, and problems, and the terrifying looming presence of real life that the older ones are just beginning to recognise.

But here, in this marvellous little room, with the late light of the sun streaming in through the high up windows, everything is wonderful. Roxanne and Rose and Lily are sitting in the corner, chatting quietly and smiling softly at their cousin, for once not the brazen personalities that so often come to the fore. James is standing with the younger boys, Hugo and Fred and their friends, holding court about some complex spell, and they're all hanging on his words. Louis and Albus are there too, but in their own conversation, and Molly is talking to that boy by a sky-blue curtain that falls like a waterfall from the ceiling. Even Dominique is calm tonight, sitting by the side with some of her old friends. They're all there, and they're all happy for once, and Lucy doesn't want this to end.

But it isn't just that (and for a girl of twelve – now – how could it be?). She can see that everyone else is watching her family, and most of all, _her, _and she loves it, revelling in the attention paid and the every growing pile of presents and compliments on the table. She's delighted, and delightful, and she knows it just well enough to stay charming without being arrogant.

**Please review!**


	28. An Encounter For Louis

**A/N - I'm so sorry for not replying to any reviews! My email won't let me click on the link [ but I'm very grateful, and hopefully it'll be fixed soon! Anyway, I adore this chapter. They're just so utterly typical...**

An Encounter For Louis

He'd been a little dazed, a little off point, since he last saw her, constantly peering around corners in the hope that he might catch a glimpse of bright blonde hair as a clue. But he's been unsuccessful, never able to get a good idea of her location or her personality or even just her face. Instead he's been catching on to tiny details: a snatch of laughter drifting up from the staircases below, a whisper of her name in the corridor as he passed, the faint perfume in the library the reminded him of clean air and tall trees and this outlandish, pale girl with the big eyes.

But he has a feeling that something is coming, as if he can feel the distant rumbling of a train that approaches slowly, oh so slowly. And that keeps him looking and looking and looking for her, for Ailsa. He knows it's a little strange, but he already likes the sound of her name a little too much (okay, lot too much).

And right now he's wandering, which is so unlike himself people are staring at him. He doesn't seem to have a purpose, and Louis always had a purpose, was always focused on some goal. So this is even stranger, having him staring into space blankly, as if part of his reason has gone.

And she can see all this, from her perch under one of the arches, watching him in the chilly winter air. She's smiling a little, and she slides down from the slippery stone shelf and cuts straight through the crowds to him, as if there was never any other path that she could have taken.

Suddenly, the world seems to focus for Louis, everything sharpening and brightening and centring on this girl with the pointed chin and the dark blue scarf. They look at each other, the confused, happy, shy look of two people who have an awful lot to say to each other and yet don't quite know how to start.

"I'm sorry for being so cryptic-" she begins, but Louis cuts her off.

"Go to Hogsmeade with me"

They both begin breathlessly, breaking into grins when she takes in what he said and gapes at him, surprised.

"Well, I – I mean, um, I er, yes, I'd like that, a lot-"

"Oh good, because it would be rubbish if you didn't, um, I mean, that's great, er, when?"

"Um, well, I'm free next weekend? Unless you're busy-"

"No, I'm not busy, um, next weekend sounds great, I'll meet you in the entrance hall at ten?"

"Um, yes, that sounds brilliant"

They act like puppies just discovering an entire new room to play with, smiling and bemused and delighted with these new developments, even if their speech was bumbled and gauche and inarticulate. They'll both run over every sentence afterwards, agonising over all the witty, smart remarks they could have made.

But in this moment, this marvellous moment, the simple sweetness of the imperfection is more than enough. It feels like everything they could ever want.

**Please review!**


	29. A Rest For Rose

**A/N - You're all, without exception, absolutely wonderful :) Thank you so much for all these lovely reviews! This is a quiet chapter, I think, and I hope you like it...**

**TO LADY OF THE LAKE: Yes, I come from a massive family! I have 24 first cousins, and we're all similar ages so the Weasley-Potter dynamic already feels very familiar to me. I'm glad you like my writing, and your review was so kind :)**

A Rest For Rose

She's tired, the outburst last week was actually one of a few, with too many straws piled on the poor camel's back. And it's showing, in the bags under her eyes and her snappish nature, and she knows that everyone notices and that just makes her more crabby and her remarks more scathing.

But Scorpius has noticed, because of course he notices everything about her, and he's been trying, trying, trying so hard to make her feel better (and by extension, the rest of the castle too) but he can't.

He gave her chocolates, and she left them in the common room with a distasteful glance. He left a flower on her bed, and she crushed it when she was sleeping, not realising it was there. Then he started really thinking, listening into everything she said and tearing it to pieces to find what she needed.

And then he came up with this plan.

He's had Rose directed to the Head Boy's study, the use of which he blackmailed James for with many threats, and he's set it all out. The sofa is pulled up in front the fire, with a table at one end piled high with books. The room seems a little smaller, a little cosier, infinitely welcoming.

Rose knocks on the door wearily, half leaning on the wall to support her, face betraying her fatigue. Scorpius opens it almost nervously, a sheepish smile beseeching her to smile and be calm and happy and herself again.

She gasps, stepping into the room as if into a warm embrace. A smile spreads over her face slowly, a smile of contentment, and she feels a glorious lassitude seep through her limbs, loosening the tension there. Scorpius grins, recognising the change in her, and he holds out his hands to her. She slips her own into his, stepping close to him and resting her head on his chest.

"I love you" She sighs quietly "Oh I love you I love you I love you"

He laughs softly "Love you too, Rosie" and she hits his shoulder lightly at the vaguely mocking tone.

They sit by the fire for an age, just talking quietly, catching up with each other's lives, sharing small jokes. It's wonderful, perfect in a muted way, like a glorious golden necklace shrouded in a fine translucent cloth.

He's exactly what she needed, needs, will need. A safe home in a storm, somewhere she can run to, just to rest, to sleep, to be quiet.

**Please review!**


	30. A Date For Lily

**A/N - Oooh, two chapters in one day? Unheard of, I know! But I'm heading back to school tomorrow after a week of being ill, so I thought I might as well post this :) Also, I wanted to ask you wonderful people a question - how do _you_ deal with spammers? As in, those random people that invite you to roleplaying sites despite having never met you...I ask because I (apparently in a fit of stupidity) replied in quite acidic tones, and the girl who sent the message is being pretty harsh about the entire thing, and I'm not sure what the norm is here. Thanks awfully xx**

A Date For Lily

There's a boy – there's always a boy – that she's noticed for a while. Not many people outside of her family intrude on Lily's mind. She just skims over them as if they are pictures she passes in hallways, occasionally stopping to look a little longer, but they flee her mind as soon as she glances at another.

But this boy intrigues her, makes her stop and think about him, his face, his character. Indeed, his features are stuck to her eyelids, haunting her dreams with all the persistency of English rain and seeping into her every thought.

When he's near, a change comes over her, and this already shining girl sparkles and burns like a dying sun, dazzling everyone in the room and leaving them dull and colourless when she leaves. And of course he's drawn to her, like a brown moth to a bright flame. He strides through the crowd to her today, swaggering, so incredibly confident that he is better than them and her and everyone else in the castle, and he smiles that terrible smile that could melt a maiden carved from marble.

"Hello, Lady Lily" he almost drawls, his voice like studded velvet, hints of danger running through everything he says and does. "Is there any chance I could have you to myself a moment?" He challenges her with his eyes, embroiling her in some secret just between the two of them.

And she loves it, sitting a tad straighter and shaking out her glorious hair and smiling with all the coquetry she knows.

"Well" she begins, a knowing little smile on her face "I suppose I could stretch to a few moments, if I can be spared here, of course" Her befuddled followers nod and mumble their assent, staggering away from this blazingly bright couple.

And Lily, oh so graceful, rises up from her seat and sways to the great arched window, standing silhouetted against the light like a slender birch tree. He follows, smiling crookedly like some sort of predator and drawing her further in with his eyes. He takes her hand in his, holding the slender fingers loosely but sending strange, unfamiliar tremors into this beautiful girl's stomach.

He speaks low, fast, words which feel like a sumptuous cloak wrapping around her shoulders with each phrase. She thrills with the gorgeousness of it all, with the perfect dreams that bubble up from the base of her heart and make the very blood within her dance for joy.

"So" he smiles down at her expectantly, already knowing the answer "what do you say, Lily? This Saturday?"

She laughs, a quicksilver peal that rises into the air and gilds the ceiling with the young girl's happiness "Yes" she sounds almost surprised "Yes, I'd love to!"

Her face betrays her joy, but his is still guarded, still controlled into an attitude of pure seduction, and she doesn't notice. Her vision is filled with daydreams already half-formed, of sleigh-rides and snowflake kisses and wearing his cloak on the cold walk home. Of a date, a real date, with someone she truly likes.

**Please review! Despite my begging for knowledge above :)**


	31. A Birth For Victoire

**A/N - Argh, so much to apologise for! It seems like forever since I last updated - end of term and all that, the next two weeks looke pretty hectic! - and then this is a very short chapter. I haven't done a long description of Victoire's labour here, because I have actually already done that (in a oneshot called My Name: be warned, it is very sad indeed) and also, I'm onoy seventeen so have not had this experience and don't presume to know what it is like! So take that bit with a pinch of salt, yes? But I hope you enjoy the general sentiment 3**

A Birth For Victoire

Merlin, I knew this was going to be difficult but I hadn't realised how much it would bloody well – AAAAAAARGH – hurt until now! OhsweetmotherAAAAAAARGH

The screams tore out of Victoire's throat, going right through Teddy and echoing along the corridor. Her face was contorted in pain and desperate concentration, blonde hair around her face limp and lifeless from the long labour.

It's agonising, and exhausting, and the most superlative experience she's ever had, and there are terrible moments when the room spins and she thinks that this is the end and she won't be able to make it.

But all of that fades away, far into the misty recesses of her mind where Victoire stores bad memories, when the pain subsides and the air fills with the raucous wailing of a baby, the baby, _her _baby. Then, the glorious relief sweeps through her limbs like a cool cloth, wiping away the blood and tears and bringing everything into sharp focus.

Because this little girl, this beautiful baby girl, is absolutely perfect. She has ten perfect fingers, with tiny half-moon nails, and downy blonde hair and big blue eyes, and that warm, milky smell that only babies have. She's wonderfully solid and cosy, and when Victoire holds her she doesn't just lie there, she snuggles into her side and holds on with her little hands like the most darling sight in the world.

She's everything they want, and the look of bliss that the two young parents exchange is too pure, too good, too happy, and everyone else makes excuses to leave them. Because this is what joy looks like – unselfish, unhurried, unbelievable.

She doesn't know how to put it into words, just stammering broken phrases in a tired voice to her husband, staring at her daughter with wide, astounded eyes. Her daughter – the phrase is almost more incredible than the child herself.

And in her drowsy mind, Victoire realises: this is what beauty really is. This shining moment.

**Please review!**


	32. An Absolution For James

**A/N - I am shockingly grateful for all your reviews, and I only hope you like this one as much as the last :)**

An Absolution For James

It's always going to be awkward between two people after an argument, but when they are two people so obviously in love then it can be even worse – especially when one of these people has no idea what to do about it.

Unfortunately, James has no idea what to do about this. He'd been almost acting as if nothing had happened, but at the same time incredibly apologetic. He didn't know how to bring her out of this strange, cool mood she was in around him, perhaps because it was so unnatural, so uncharacteristic.

She'd never acted like this before – admittedly they had never really argued before, but they had both done things that annoyed the other and she hadn't reacted like this. Normally they just brushed passed issues, pushing them away as if they weren't important, because normally that was true. But this one wasn't normal, wasn't easy to deal with and was utterly impossible to ignore.

Part of the problem he faced was getting near to her to talk: since that night last week she'd been surrounded by her friends, all of whom fixed him with withering gazes whenever he approached, freezing his courage. And she herself seemed different too. Gone was the sweet, smiling face, the eyes filled with good hopes, the slightly hesitant gaze, as if she didn't want to look away from anything. Instead she was icy, cool, distant, her face a tense mask of unseeing eyes, her steps slow, her manner quiet and almost apologetic.

She hardly resembled the girl he loved, and James was beginning to feel an awful guilt, as if he was responsible for the change, for denting her joy with life and light and the whole world, and no matter how many justifications and I-was-tireds and she's-overreactings he gave himself, it wouldn't go away.

And he realised, while staring moodily into his pie at dinner that night, that he was absolutely miserable when this had the potential to all be fixed.

So he looked around with the wild eyes of some genius who just discovered a theory to save the world, and saw her nut-brown head disappearing out of the door, shoulders hunched as she carried a pile of books that he should have been holding.

And he leapt up, long legs, flung flailing over the bench and he strode after her, through the towering doors and up the little side staircase she always used to reach her common room, down in the basement, following something, not the sight of her back, not the scent of her hair, not the sound of her footsteps but perhaps the knowledge of her, just of her.

And of course, he caught her, dashing in front of her like a frantic house elf and grabbing her hand, making her drop her books and stare it him in shock.

"Listen" he said breathlessly, worriedly, a frown settled between his brows "just listen, because I was an idiot, and I deserve to be ignored, but I love you, and I can't stand sitting around watching you be miserable because I did something stupid. So please forgive me, because I feel crap"

Her eyes widened, and all of a sudden she broke into loud, happy laughter, and flinging herself into his arms she kissed him soundly, joyfully.

"You're such an idiot" she told him

"Yes"

"But I'm an idiot too"

"Okay then"

"So let's be idiots together for a while?"

"Sounds good to me"

And so the books stayed there in the corridor for a while, and the two teenagers returned to their common rooms much later, with telling bemused expressions and comfortably mussed hair.

**Please review!**


	33. A Break For Dominique

**A/N - What's this? Two updates in one day? Practically unheard of! But I feel like I've slightly abandoned you guys recently, so this is half way to making up for it, I hope :) Enjoy!**

A Break For Dominique

She's been feeling so much stronger, so much more alive since realising what she had to lose. Yes, she's still frail, still fragile, still shattered, but she smiles a little now. Just a little, but just enough to give people hope, to give herself hope that maybe, one day, she might be alright.

And now she's at breakfast, for the first time in anyone's memory, and her bowl is filled with porridge and she's _eating,_ really eating, as if she enjoys it. And because of that, everyone is happier, casting disbelieving glances when they first see her but all so ready to accept this new change.

And they chat, and she laughs! A small, almost hesitant laugh, but it's the most beautiful thing about the day, a golden moment. And they all laugh with her, and for a little while they are those shining, superhuman people who have everything and always will.

And as they laugh, the post swoops down in a shower of letters and feathers, and the hall fills with squawking and flapping and it just gets funnier and funnier. The table fills with letters and papers and magazines, and when things calm down they all start ripping into them, until the wood is obscured by scraps of paper.

And they're all reading the letters and laughing at the news and sharing just everything. But Dominique opens hers and something happens, her face freezes and becomes rigid, she gets tense and guarded. Stiffly, she places her envelope down on the table and gets up, stalking out as if all her joints have frozen. They look up, surprised, but she's too far away for them to do anything.

Lily's face falls, and Roxanne grabs the envelope and shakes out the contents. There's no letter, just a picture.

It shows Victoire, sweaty and tired, holding a tiny, perfect baby. She's not looking at the camera, but at Teddy, who is cuddled beside her on the bed, and he's looking at her too. They are the family, the ideal family, and they just reek love and happiness and contentment.

And the others look after their cousin, some confused, some with realisation dawning. Because the breaks are appearing, and her walls are getting more transparent by the hour. You can only hide heartbreak for so long.

**Please review!**


	34. A Soaking For Fred

**A/N - Yay, Fred again! I thought this would be a horrendous chapter to write, but I ended up loving it, and I hope you will too! Just to let you all know, I'm going to Germany for a week (I think) tomorrow evening, so there is going to be a bit of a gap now, but I will try to put the chapter after this up before I leave. See you all on the 21st, and enjoy!**

A Soaking For Fred

The corridor is silent. But it is the kind of quiet that can be ominous, scary and stiflingly muffled.

Fred is secreted away in a hidden cubbyhole, disguised as an ordinary segment of wall. He's cramped and contorted to fit, and he's nervous enough that his breathing is heavy and laboured, making the little niche uncomfortably warm.

Normally, he's calm about his tricks, confident that they will work perfectly and he will come out of the whole thing very well, but this one is different. He's a little scared, a little worried, a little apprehensive of his victim's reaction – so the atmosphere around him seems to crackle with tension, like a spitting pan of butter.

All of a sudden, there's a sound.

It's laughter, high and girlish. Fred tenses, wand at the ready.

The girls get closer, with his victim in their midst. They are chatting idly, strolling and bantering and giggling as girls do when they have no pressing engagements. She is in the centre of the group, completely at ease, her flashing eyes content and friendly.

As they draw almost level with him, Fred flicks his wand at the ceiling and mutters a little stream of words, mellifluous and mesmerizing, engrossed in the task at hand.

At once, the roof seems to melt into freezing water, and it starts to pour down on the girls. The slower ones are soaked, but not the target, no, she shields herself with a lightning fast charm. They try to run, shrieking and screaming, but they can't escape the water pouring down on all sides – it is as if it repels them, and every time they run out they are just replaced entering from the other side.

Fred is laughing, in pain with mirth as tears start in his eyes, He's stifling the choking laughs, trying so hard to stay quiet, but one escapes him even though he does not notice – but she does. A calculating expression sweeps over her face, along with a strange, fierce joy at the challenge.

Treating the cascading water like a curtain, she draws it back from all sides with her wand, dragging it along as her friends escape through the ever growing gap. Eventually, all the water is in one place – in front of Fred's cubbyhole. He hardly notices, trying to contain himself somehow, but she smiles a grin that revels in the gloriously wicked revenge.

The girls hurry away, squealing and wringing out their hair as they leave. Just as they do, Fred realises her attempt at retaliation, and grins. He goes to draw back the water as she did, but it won't move.

Panic starts to spread.

Frantically, he flourishes his wand at the water.

Nothing.

After twenty minutes of stubborn disbelief and anger, Fred does the only thing he can think to do now, and dives head first through the water, expecting to be shoved back unceremoniously by the charm.

Instead, he tumbles onto the floor of the corridor, rolling and yowling at the pain. His face screws up, but when he sits up and opens his eyes, he sees a figure at the end of the corridor.

It's her, and she doesn't say a word. She just winks, and gives him a conspiratorial smirk as if to say "Nice try, Weasley, but I'm just as good as you are."

Then, disappearing around the corner, She leaves Fred in a puddle of water and confusion.

**Please review!**


	35. A Truth For Molly

**A/N - Guten Tag! Thanks for the reviews! And Germany was wonderful - all snowy and Narnia-like :) I'm massively sorry for the lack of review-replying: my email is having serious issues and I feel like I've abandoned you all horribly! But I hope you enjoy this anyway.**

A Truth For Molly

Gosh, isn't this wonderful? This dizzy, fizzy feeling that makes her feel as if she might just explode in a hundred thousand directions if her skin weren't stopping her! She's living on centre stage in a minor part, believing that everyone is watching her and admiring her and she's just delighting in this, this life, this feeling, this marvellous first taste of love.

And it is partly so great because it is terrifying, because she has no idea about how she feels or what she feels or how this is going to progress. It's the rush of standing on a ledge, moments away from falling onto pain and heartbreak and unhappiness, but pushed back by the wind so that you can see the edge but cannot fall beyond it.

It's exhilarating.

And exciting.

And she loves every second.

But the most beautiful part of this romance isn't the thrill, the envious glances, the uncertainty – it's the reality, the solidity, the tangibility.

Because Molly has been imagining this for forevers: good morning kisses, someone to share a smile with across the room, a dear face to be imprinted on the back of her eyelids when she falls asleep – and she was deathly afraid that it might not live up to her dreams.

But now, oh, now, she sees that this is a thousand and three times better. The sweet warmth of his arm around her waist, the delicious knowledge that he'll be waiting for her outside some of her classes, but the thrilling surprise as to which one he chooses and the perfect, perfect moments when he looks at her and she just knows that she's all he's seeing.

And having him next to her, just a fingertip away, is better than she ever could have dreamt. Because this won't melt away when the world comes into focus every morning – this is true.

**Please review!**


	36. A Decision For Albus

**A/N - Well, personally, I find this chapter really upsetting! But there is a point to this all, don't worry - enjoy!**

A Decision For Albus

Its weird how so much can turn around in so short a time – how rain can turn to snow with one cold wind, how love can turn to hate with one sour word and how a boy who felt cut off can be the centre of attention because of one conversation.

Not that Albus is complaining. This is what he always wanted: his opinions respected and waited for, people who listened to what he had to say, who looked at him while he spoke.

People who cared.

And so he was dreading the holidays as other students dread exams, fearing the awful, cheery family gatherings where once again he would be pushed backwards against the walls, shut out, ignored. This hung over every day like the letter from his dad sat on his desk, unopened, waiting for an answer.

But the more Albus was respected by his other friends, the less he wanted to be with his family. He'd been avoiding them, not meeting their eyes in lessons, sitting apart at meals, not joining them in the little meetings in the library that they used to have. They didn't seem to have noticed, all busy discussing things in low voices and casting distressed glances at Dom. He had realised that, but he didn't know why. And strangely, he hardly cared.

Somewhere along the road he had grown bitter, angry, sour. Jealous of their unavoidable draw, like that of Veela, jealous of the way they all seemed like a family, jealous of how he didn't, couldn't, wouldn't fit in.

The holidays were still looming.

And then, Albus made a decision. He wasn't going to do it, wasn't going to make himself miserable, wasn't going to fade back and deal with it like every other year. He stopped pacing around his room, and flung himself into a chair and began to write in a frustrated scrawl.

After a few moments, he stopped writing, and when the ink had dried he rolled the parchment up and set off to the Owlery at once.

_Dad won't be too angry – Mum will be but James will cheer her up. Now I need to find somewhere else to stay for Christmas, because at Hogwarts it will be almost as bad. I think some of the others are going to Tanya's for the holidays…I bet they'll let me come with if I mention it._

**Please review!**_  
><em>


	37. A Lesson For Roxanne

**A/N - This is a little different; more of the school side of Hogwarts than the characters, but I hope you like it anyway!**

A Lesson For Roxanne

"Today we're going to be continuing our studies on ancient witches and wizards." the tall teacher began, walking in front of the large oak desk and scanning the class "We've already covered Circe and Calypso, but there is one more Ancient Greek witch who we haven't looked at yet – does anyone know who?"

The class stared back at her balefully, all determinedly blank. History of Magic had never been and would never be the most popular subject, even if Professor Binns had been replaced by a living teacher. Roxanne was sitting in the second row, gazing dully at the teacher with everyone else.

Professor Davell sighed, and swept over to the blackboard, her wand appearing out of her hanging green sleeve. She flicked it at the board, and in swirled handwriting a name appeared: Penelope.

"Penelope" the Professor began "was the wife of Odysseus – I would advise you to write this down – and she will be one of the most important witches we study because she was one of the first to conceal her use of magic from the world, while still wielding immense power."  
>"Penelope's husband left to fight in the Trojan war – caused by Paris, the warlock we studied last week – and she was left to rule Ithaka, where he was king. The Greeks did not take kindly to women ruling them, so Penelope had to win and gain their approval over a course of twenty years, using her magic and various other methods."<p>

The atmosphere in the class was stiflingly dull, all dust motes in sunlight and scratching pens, and Roxanne had not written a single word. The professor raised her voice a little with the next sentence.

"She began by controlling men: flirting, promising eventual marriage, all sorts, but that only got her into trouble. Most historians believe it began with the Palace chancellor, who she tried to seduce using love potions so that he would do as she wished with the estates. This plan worked, but rumours of her affair spread and soon the island was filled with suitors who wished for the same treatment. Penelope was caught up in her reputation as a seductress, and she had to try to escape that before Odysseus returned"

All this caught Roxanne's attention, making her sit up and look at the blackboard, where the white chalk was swirling out of their lines of text into a picture.

She saw the lines mimic the teacher's words, showing a tall woman with long hair in elaborate ringlets, looking out over a rocky land from a window. She was stirring a terracotta cauldron, and she appeared to be muttering spells. Roxanne watched, entranced, as she poured the potion into a little cup, passing her hands over the top. The lines mixed and all of a sudden she was handing the cup to a stocky, bearded man, who drank it. The next picture was of the woman sitting on a throne, surrounded by courtiers hanging on her every word, stroking her hands, standing too close. There was an awful, uneasy expression on her face, along with a terrible, terrible fear. She looked directly out of the picture, directly into Roxanne's eyes.

"…and so when Odysseus did return, he killed everyone, all the suitors on the island. All those innocent men lost their lives because Penelope tried to gain control in the wrong way, and did not know how to use her magic to reverse the potion once it had spread that far. At least, that is the most popular view – some say that she engineered this deliberately so that all the kings and princes of neighbouring islands would die and their territory go to her husband, but you'll have to make up your own mind about that."

The sand timer at the front of the room ran out, and the sound of a bell came from it. The students immediately began packing up, shoving everything into their bags in their eagerness to get to lunch – except for Roxanne. She was moving slowly, caught up in thoughts of that strange, mystical woman who had looked out of the picture.

"Homework – six inches of parchment on what you think Penelope's motives were. Use the library!" Professor Davell shouted over the din, clearing the blackboard with a flourish of her wand.

And for the first time in her life, Roxanne walked to the library straight after the lesson and compiled a huge stack of books to lug up to her room, all about this ancient witch who had insinuated herself into her mind.

**And so it begins...please review!**


	38. Rose's Question

**A/N - Hey everyone! I cannot BELIEVE how far this story is progressing, and I'm just speechless about all the support you've all given me 3 thank you so much, and here's Rose again!**

Rose's Question

Rose felt half-responsible for a lot of the group, being the oldest girl left in the school. Besides, Victoire had always been a little too wrapped up in herself to notice the rest of them, so Rose had become a sort of contingency-mother for the girls.

She'd heard a lot of little confidences over the years – crushes, fights, mistakes – but Dom had never told her very much. All of Fleur's children were a little detached, she thought, what with Louis' quietness and Dom's secrecy and Victoire's self-centred nature.

But now she would have to tell them, would have to break the silence and break this sickness grasping her limbs and poisoning her pretty heart, and Rose was going to have to be the one to ask.

So Rose went and sat in the armchairs below Ravenclaw's tower, waiting for Dom to go back to her room instead of to dinner, sickly nervous and worried about her cousin's reaction.

_It'll be fine, I'm sure…if she takes it rationally. But then again, she might not – that's actually more likely at the moment. I just hope she'll listen to me, that she'll sit down and talk about all this stupid stuff so we can sort it out and go back to normal. It's horrible seeing her like this. She's barely even herself, she's so thin and pale, and her hair has changed a lot too, it's not as shiny as it used to be._

She heard faint footsteps coming along the corridor, and rose hesitantly, looking down for Dominique.

Her cousin was trailing her frail hand along the stone wall, leaning on it a little for support. Her steps were slow, her knees buckling a little each time she leant on one. She was dressed in her own clothes – jeans that used to be tight hanging off her legs, a jumper that used to fit draped over her emaciated frame. She was looking at the floor, face set.

"Dom?"

She looked up, looked right at Rose, but there was no reaction in her eyes, no recognition.

"Dom, I need to talk to you – will you sit with me?"

Dominique looked at her for the longest moment, just stared blankly.

Rose was shocked at her eyes, how dead they were. Like great dark hollows in a skull – there was no light there, no life at all. The skin was stretched tight over her face, her cheekbones looking as if they might cut through at any moment.

"Thanks Rose, but I'm really tired. I think I'm just going to go to bed for an hour or so"

Her voice was a monotone, robotic and cold. She continued along the centre of the corridor this time, swaying a little from exhaustion.

"No, Dom, please" Rose entreated her, catching her arm. But Dom just slipped out of her grasp like a wraith, carrying on as if nothing had happened.

"Dom, please, you have to tell." she begged, her voice cracking with emotion. "Why?"

But Dom kept walking, the words sliding around her little form like raindrops down an umbrella, and Rose's question was left unanswered.

**Please review!**


	39. Lily's Dream

**A/N - Hey! I hope you all had a great Christmas/****Hanukkah/December 25th! I just want to say a leetle 'thank you' to Anie1129, who is the most lovely reviewer ever! Enjoy this :)**

Lily's Dream

_It's bitterly cold, snowy and windy and the sort of weather that drives people inside to enjoy it through a window. Lily stands in the courtyard, wrapped in a long white cloak lined with thick fur, the hood framing her radiant face in a soft halo._

_The light is soft, the shadows friendly, warmth shining down from the thousand little windows above her. Despite the slowly falling snowflakes, the sky is clear and crisp and bright and full of diamond stars like glitter on a Christmas card._

_She takes it all in: the lights, the pretty stone archways wreathed in greenery, the faint sounds of laughter from above. Takes it in with the small, happy smile of a girl who knows that paradise is waiting for her just behind the door, just beyond the breeze._

_And then the door opens, quietly, unobtrusively, and a tall figure steps through. He's broad-shouldered and solid, and although his face is slightly unfocused, as though he wears a mask of gauze, she knows that his features are the ones she will hold most dear forever. He crosses to her, looks into her eyes and tells her without a hint of embarrassment or joke that she is beautiful._

_Beautiful._

_All of a sudden, they are on a pathway with a roof of silvery branches, snow crunching as they walk, all wrapped up in each other. He kisses her cheek and she smiles, just smiles and smiles and smiles as though she cannot wish for anything more._

_They walk for a forever and a half, weaving through thickets and disused pathways and hidden glens as gracefully as a bird does through the breezes. Her cloak blends with the snow, and his with the shadows, so none on the main paths could see them even if they were looking._

_Her face is numb, and his fingers are cold when he brushes her hair back from her face, but the warmth of their lips makes up for that, sweet kisses given in the moonlight._

This doesn't return, this glorious, magical couple on their charmed way, but something of it remains in Lily's mind when she awakes to find the grounds wearing their very own white cloak. Something small, and quiet, and sweeter than any other joy she'd ever felt before.

**Please review!**


	40. Victoire's Choice

**A/N - 40 chapters you guys! I'm so happy :) therefore this chapter is a huge thank you to ALL of you who read, reviewed, favourited, alerted etc. because you made me so darn happy!**

Victoire's Choice

_Babies are loud. Loud and demanding and the most adorable little creatures in the entire world. _Victoire thought as she bent over the cradle to pick her daughter up from amidst the soft blankets. The baby curled close to her mother in that comfortable, warm way that babies do. Victoire looked down on her in a peculiar mixture of surprise and adoration, as if she didn't really expect to find this perfect little person in her arms, but was wonderfully happy to anyway.

She looked so different to the rest of them – both 'Toire and Dom were fair, even with Dominique's red hair – though Teddy's abilities might have affected her appearance, she supposed.

"Now, my darling." Victoire began, walking downstairs "What on earth are we going to call you?"

It had been three weeks, and they still hadn't named the baby. Various grandparents were beginning to mutter and ask pointed questions, so the young couple had decided that they had better hurry up. After all, they can't keep calling her 'Sproglet' forever.

But how difficult it is to name a baby! She looks into their faces so intelligently that they determine to give her an adult name, suitable to her incredibly advanced mind, but then she gurgles so delightfully that they think that a sweet, flouncy name would suit her so much better.

And so they vacillated, swaying between Alices and Carolines and Freyas and Isabelles, and nothing ever fit this baby girl quite right.

Victoire set her down on the blue rug in the middle of the sunny little room, and the baby stared up at her for a moment, goggle eyed, before moving on and starting to play with one of the brightly coloured toys that surrounded her.

And suddenly, it struck Vic, the perfect name for this bright, dark-haired and dark-eyed baby.

"Poppy."

And when she said it, the baby gurgled cheerfully, as if to say "Well of course, how could it have been anything else?"

**Please review!**


	41. James' Morning

**A/N - Happy-almost-2012! It's nearly the end of term for this lot, so things are going to be changing in new and interesting ways soon...**

James' Morning

James loves Sundays more than any other day of the week. Most people prefer Saturdays, because with Sunday night comes Monday morning, but James has always felt this way, and he probably always will.

Because ever since they first started going out, this has been their morning. Their time to go out and get away from the castle and the people and just walk around a joke and be together.

After being at the centre of things all week, that's nice. A break, a space, a rest.

They don't meet in the Entrance Hall, but at a little back door leading out of the West Wing. James is there first today, swathed in his black coat with a Gryffindor hat atop his messy hair, waiting for her.

She doesn't take long, because she doesn't believe in delaying something she loves so, but swishes around the corner in her wide-skirted blue coat, all smiles and shiny hair.

James breaks into a grin at the sight of her – no high-flying emotions or sentimentality – just happiness and **solid** love.

"Hey" he says, hugging her "Shall we go then?"

"I'm as ready as you" she replies happily, slipping her hands into some pretty gloves he gave her last year before they fling the door open and tumble out into the wind and snow.

They make their way over the wide grey terrace quickly, down the steps and over the lawn sliced apart by paths, until the castle ceases to loom and just becomes background scenery.

Then they ramble, over the hills where a forest used to be, along the little stream and down into the concealed valleys which feel like bowers, with living ceilings of silvered branches and carpets of frosty earth, until their breath comes in gasps and their limbs burn with exertion.

They are hand in hand sometimes, her head on his shoulder when they rest, colour in their cheeks and sparkle in their eyes, and from a distance they could be anyone, any young couple to totally in love, wandering in the slow falling snow.

And when they return, falling through the little door all tumbled and tangled from the wind, they are overflowing with good cheer and festive spirit, smiling at everyone and at each other as they walk back up to their common rooms, fairly glowing from their wonderful morning.

**Please review!**


	42. Dominique's Tears

**A/N - Oh gosh, this is an upsetting one...this is actually the first chapter I wrote of this entire fic, and it's quite close to my heart - and it is also a beginning for Dom, thank God! **

Dominque's Tears

They're all whispering about it before the lesson, the baby, the fairytale couple, the reaction that shocked everyone who saw it and quickly became legend in the school. When she walks in, all wrapped up in herself, she can tell from the sudden silence and the bright, hungry eyes that they've been discussing her, avidly tearing her tragedy to pieces and exposing all the innards of her life for picking over like the cruel, careless vultures that lurk in even the best of people.

She pauses, looks around them with empty eyes that betray the dead part of her soul to the world, and quietly slips into a desk at the back, hiding her face in her sweep of red hair and hoping in a dead little way that no-one takes notice of her, so she can just be.

But they do, the smart, shiny girls sashay over to her desk, all sharp perfume and double sided intentions, and they ask her questions.

"So, Dom, how're things at home?"

"How's your sister doing?"

"We heard about the baby – is it weird being an aunt so young?"

"Is Teddy used to it yet?"

Then she snaps, sudden and sharp, looks up at them with a spark in her face and a trace of her old intensity

"Stop" she says clearly, quietly "just stop. I don't know, I don't care, just _stop talking about it all_" Her voice rises and rises in intensity and she hisses the last word, and they are all shocked, staring at her in horror. The teacher freezes in the doorway, trying to take in the scene.

Then Dominique changes, her militant stance crumpling as she slips from her seat, eyes dead once more, and the girls gasp, suddenly afraid of what they might have done. She looks them all in the face, scanning over the crowd but not taking anything in.

"Please" she whispers, slowly falling to the floor "please please just don't say it, anything about it, about him, please don't say his name, please, please" Her voice breaks a little, and the silence falls around them all like some sort of paralysing potion, freezing them to the spot as they watch this fragile girl crumple and fall to pieces before them. Her frail body folds over itself, long thin limbs moving in a grotesque parody of the grace she once had.

She shakes a little, eyes huge in her wasted faces as her lips move in a silent entreaty to them all. No-one moves, no-one can. The whole room is transfixed with an awful mixture of pity and fear and the heartbreak that seeps out of her like an overflowing glass, waves of sorrow that make the room cold.

"Just go, please, please just everyone go" she murmurs, her little broken voice coming straight from her broken little heart in her broken little body, and they go, slipping out of the classroom almost reverently, as if they are terribly terribly afraid of what is contained in this girl so shaken by the world.

And the girl curls in on herself, leaning her back against the wall and holds onto her knees as the waves of utter misery shake her slight frame, tears running down her face and soaking her dark jumper. Her pale hands creep up the frail legs, covering her ravaged face, and the salty sobs seep through the cracks in her fingers.

She sits there for a thousand forevers, silently staring at the dark walls and musty corners, hoping the tears will return long after the tracks have dried on her cheeks, hoping that maybe if she cries enough she'll feel better, cleaner, calmer.

But it doesn't work, and the sobs that rip out of her thin throat are dry and painful, and her eyes, though bloodshot and swollen, won't help her, not even a little bit. She hugs her legs close, praying for something she can't quite understand, but yet desperately needs.

She's praying for tears, for the healing that comes with them and for the dreadful shuddering release of gulping sobs that make her forget it all.

**Please review!**


	43. Fred's Revenge

**A/N - And now something a little more lighthearted :) Happy New Year!**

Fred's Revenge

_Always knew girls were stupid – she'll walk right into this one. No chance of this backfiring on me, no way._

He carefully levitated the purple box through her window, balancing on his broom at the same time, and laid it down on her bed hung with blue silk curtains. The Ravenclaw dormitories were very different to his won – the furniture was not solid and dark, but prettily carved from warm woods, and there were no huge tapestries on the walls, but light cloths painted with scenes, and they seemed to match the weather outside. Even the ceilings were higher.

"Girls" Fred snorted scornfully under his breath, zooming down to the ground as he went to await the effects of his spurious present.

XxXxXxX

Much later, while Fred was sitting at dinner, tense and shifty, she found him. She raced up to him, wide eyed and smiling, and she hugged him tight and smacked his cheek with a fierce kiss.

"Fred, thank you so much for your present!" She said loudly, catching the attention of everyone in the vicinity "it was so sweet, I'll wear it forever."

Fred stared at her in horror.

There was not a trace of his trick on her – the necklace which should have covered her in streaks of luminous paint was no longer just her initial, but read 'Love' in curly golden script instead, hanging from a slender golden chain.

She hugged him again and swayed back to her own friends, casting one triumphant glance back at the shocked boy, who sat himself back down. His older male cousins sniggered at his red face, while the girls cooed over him.

"Hey, Fred." Louis made as if to rub his face "you have, um, lipstick on your face."

Fred angrily rubbed his face, but instead of the table calming down, as soon as he began to eat again Hugo started laughing hysterically.

"Hugo, stop being an idiot." Rose snapped, throwing a carrot at her little brother.

"No." he spluttered, pointing at Fred's face "look!"

They looked. And the table exploded in loud guffaws and chuckles and snorts, and Fred leapt up and fled to the nearest bathroom, where he looked into the mirror.

There was lipstick on his face, but instead of just a mark where she had kissed him, there were two, one on each cheek. Fred flushed angrily and began to rub at them with the soap, but as soon as one washed off, two more appeared. Frantically he began to scrub his face, to no avail.

XxXxXxX

He was just leaving the Hospital Wing, after having the trick lipstick marks removed, when he heard a voice behind a curtain.

"I don't know what it is, Madam Furnivall" a girl said fretfully "I think it's a charm that was put on a piece of jewellery I own – I covered it up with makeup earlier but they just won't go away."

"Now dear" the nurse replied calmly "it's not so very bad, just a bit of charmed paint, we'll have it gone in a couple of days."

"A couple of days!" she shrieked, horrified "I'm glowing green and purple! I can't go out like this! There must be a faster way!"

Fred slunk away, grinning to himself. He felt the age-old satisfaction of a prank gone right – along with new feelings of respect for his opponent.

**Please review!**


	44. Molly's Kiss

**A/N - I love New Year parties, I love Molly, and I love everyone who reviewed 3 enjoy!**

Molly's Kiss

It's the end of term and its more hectic than ever, with trunks overflowing and people roaming the castle for lost possessions and goodbyes, and Molly is sitting on her cases in the Great Hall, desperately hoping for her own special goodbye.

He's not going on the train, you see, his parents are flooing him out so that they can go and visit family in Sweden, so they have to say their farewells here. She's already made excuses to search the castle for him, claiming he has her bracelet, her cloak, her book, but she just can't find him. And now the rush to the carriages has begun and everyone is streaming out but _she still hasn't found him_ and though she hates to admit it she's dying a tiny little bit inside.

So she pushes that sick, aching feeling down away from her pretty little heart, and drags her trunk with the rest of them, heavy steps and a hint of heartbreak in her eyes. She makes her way down the steps, into the open forecourt where the carriages are gathering and looks around for a space, for her family, for anywhere where she won't have to share the disappointment which is seeping into her mind.

"Molly!"

How one word can change everything! He's rushing down the steps to her, wild-eyed and dashing, through the crowds and over the cases to _her._

"I thought-"

He cuts her off with the sweeping, romantic kiss she's always dreamed of, the one that she read about and scoffed at, saying "that would never happen, no boy can make your legs turn to water, no-one can kiss that well."

But it turns out that the boy you're half in love with _can _turn your limbs to liquid, and she stumbles but he catches her, and soon some people around them are nervously looking away whilst others wonder how they can breathe like that.

Eventually, they rejoin the world.

"I couldn't let you go without saying goodbye." He stammers, embarrassed now.

"I looked for you" she assures him "all over the castle."  
>"I was packing, I didn't get it all done last night."<p>

This would be awkward, but the hope in her eyes and the adoration in his makes it touching, sweet, innocently beautiful. And when the carriages are almost all gone, and Molly _has _to get in, she leaves him with soft words and a snowflake kiss, and he watches her until the carriage turns into the dark woods and he can see it no longer.

And Molly sighs when she is on the train, wriggles down into her coat and scarf so that her family cannot see the small, happy smile on her face.

_What a nice way to go home._

__**Please review!**


	45. Albus' Christmas

**A/N - This is shockingly short, I apologise hugely :0 revision is taking up a whole lot of my time! But this is important, I think...**

Albus' Christmas

The first Christmas he's ever spent away from his mum and dad is turning out to be great so far. Well, more than great, really.

Albus is having more fun than he's ever had before.

It's not so much of a comparison any more though – he really is having a good time now. Not because they aren't his family, but because he's surrounded by genuinely interesting people. Take Anna, the small, dark girl who first invited him to this group. She's Spanish, her mother travelled as a gypsy when she was younger and she knows all sorts of spells he's never heard of – strange, exotic enchantments with funny names. And then there are the two boys who joined the school from Durmstrang this year, who throw a different light on every situation, make him look at the world differently. And Tanya, whose family has taken in all of these outcasts, who is slick and sharp and blonde and beautiful, captivating him totally.

The novelty is wearing off, but he's still interested in this group, still enjoying the way they all listen so intently to him , show him their opinions as an option rather than as the truth.

Still though, there are moments when he feels uncertain, uneasy, a little bit sick. Like when Tanya's mother sings in the kitchen as she cooks dinner, reminding him of his own mother's cheerful preparations. Or when her little brothers and sisters decorate the house, or her dad tells terrible jokes but they all laugh anyway, because that's tradition.

That's not important though, because however bitter he feels when he thinks of his own family all warm and cosy and together at the Burrow, he remembers how he'd be on the edge, next to the draughty window, and he pushes himself into this other Christmas even more, doing all he can to belong here instead.

And at the Burrow, Lily and James share a resigned, sad look when Albus' presents stay under the tree while everyone else has opened theirs, and Harry takes the leftovers of the table with a sigh, remembering that Albus is the only one who liked red cabbage anyway.

**Please review!**


	46. Roxanne's Decision

**A/N - Confession: I adore this chapter. Really, truly adore it, and I have not a single clue why. In my head it's called the New Year's Resolution chapter, enjoy 3**

Roxanne's Decision

The night is clear, and still, and cool and crisp just like the perfect winter night should be. It makes her remember all those stories her grandparents tell, about the perfect baby that arrived on earth to be worshipped by men and angels alike, the one the muggles think is the most special of all.

Her grandparents have a picture of him in their house, being held by a pretty girl wearing a blue veil. They've always said that Roxanne looks a little like her, though she can't see the resemblance anymore.

She's like to be like her though. From the stories she sounds nice, kind, friendly. The kind of girl who could have sleepovers that everyone came to, the kind of girl who people smile at in corridors, the kind of girl who laughs with her best friends all the time.

The kind of girl Roxanne used to be.

But the night is friendly, not one of those awful summer nights when the heat drives you crazy and you can't find any respite, but a calm night, a peaceful night. And that makes her thoughts clearer, more lucid than before.

Because she isn't happy, and she knows it.

And now she's finally prepared to do something about it.

And this time, the resolution just might stick. Because this wasn't decided in the shame-ridden moments after she kissed someone else's boyfriend, or the blurry midnights just after she cried herself to exhaustion because of the way everyone looks at her, or because of the sick feeling deep in her soul after someone treats her as an object.

This decision feels real, binding, almost sacred. As if it were a vow of sorts, to some god she doesn't know and a cause she doesn't understand.

She's just a girl, after all. A tired, jaded girl who wants to be okay again.

**Please review? And if you have Tumblr, I think I have one...the URL is kissmeonethousandtimes, and I'd love some followers on there if you're that way inclined :)**


	47. Hugo's Present

**A/N - Hi again! I hope you like this :) I actually just completely lost a chapter for the next block because it upped and switched around the way I thought about it - it's now a oneshot called 'Forgetting' if you're interested. Enjoy!**

Hugo's Present

"Well Hugo, what d'you think?"

The boy gaped at his aunt blankly, utterly floored. Ginny sighed in exasperation.

"Look, I know I haven't been there for a while now, but I still have access to the entire building. That's what happens when you win a world championship, right Ron?" she raised her voice a little to reach her brother, who was currently buried under a pile of wrapping paper.

Hugo still stared.

"All the team members will be there." Ginny promised him, smiling hopefully.

"You mean" the boy gasped "that I could go _inside _the Puddlemore training pitches, _fly_ on it and then _meet the team?_"

"Yep."

Hugo flung himself at his aunt, wrapping his arms around her and saying his thank-yous through the muffled layer of Ginny's many jumpers. She laughed and patted his shoulders as his cousins muttered about how unfair it was.

"Can we go now?" he begged "please, auntie Ginny?"

Everyone laughed then.

"It's Christmas Day, you daft boy." His mother scolded affectionately "there won't be anyone there at the moment."

"So?"

"Silly kid." Angelina said, ruffling his hair as she passed, and they all eventually went back to their presents, laughing and bantering and throwing things in the loud, boisterous way that families do.

Hugo was not amused.

XxXxXxX

The next morning, Hugo was up at five-thirty, in the way of small children, packing his gear and pacing up and down with his stocky legs. He tried to make breakfast, bacon, as the professionals ate. But he couldn't turn the stove on, so he settled for eating a handful of turkey off yesterday's dinner.

He carried on pacing.

He sat and read his strategy books.

He played with his Christmas presents.

He built a stadium out of old building blocks.

Then _he put them all away_. _Neatly._

Finally, at nine o'clock, Aunt Ginny emerged, bleary eyed and yawning but gloriously awake.

And so they set out, into the fireplace at the Burrow and out of the one in the manager's office at Puddlemore stadium. Right into one of Hugo's dreams.

He toured the stadium, and saw all the rooms, learnt all the secrets. He flew a victory lap of the world champion's home pitch, met the team after one of their practices, had lunch in their cafeteria, did everything they did.

It was a magical day.

**Please review!**


	48. Lucy's Discovery

**A/N - I love you all for reviewing/favouriting/alerting :) enjoy this too?**

Lucy's Discovery

Lucy'd always been one for getting up early – it drove her parents wild. Everyone else would be eating breakfast, taking showers, getting ready for school, and then this silvery little girl would trip through the back door, having been awake for hours and hours.

Today she woke up at three, not at all tired, but drawn outside, to the quiet, the stillness. She's a whimsical sheaf of something, all dressed in her favourite dress from years ago. It was a gift on her sixth birthday – a dress that would grow with her, reflect her heart forever. At the moment it has long, tight sleeves and a wide scoop neckline, and a skirt that swirls around her ankles in a shimmer of silver and blue, like water behind a layer of ice.

She slips down the stairs, past the remnants of dinner and the embers in the fireplace, feeling for all the world like a princess escaping from an enemy castle, and finally out, out into the garden

It's cold, and crispy from the frost, and utterly glorious. She runs, runs full out in that childlike way when you throw your whole self into each step, through the garden and past the hedges until she's out on the hills beyond the house, almost out of sight.

And she looks at the stars, and around her at the _space_, the openness that rolls on forever over each undulating hill, and she grins. Grins and grins until her face aches and she has to laugh to change her expression, and then the sweet, excited sounds bounce around her, echoing back as though the world is happy with her.

Soon, she goes back, creeping in through the door at five, just as the house is beginning to awake – and she sees them.

Dominique, kneeling on the floor, sobbing into the letter she's just opened. And her grandma, Molly, with her arms wrapped around her as if she might sink away at any moment.

It's terrible, and private, and Lucy feels sick when she realises who the letter must be from, and what it could say, and how Dom sounds as if her soul is being torn out of her, as if she's dying.

But at the same time, Lucy knows: it had to happen sometime.

That's what makes it hurt so. That's what makes her take Dom's hand later that day, and sit just a little closer. As if she can give her cousin some of that peace, perhaps some of the happiness that she discovered that morning in the hills.

**Please review!**


	49. Louis' Flight

**A/N - I have to be honest, I've not liked Louis much before this chapter. He just didn't seem that fun to me, you know? But I think I just persuaded myself otherwise...enjoy :)**

Louis' Flight

_Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat_

The rickety window was shaking and bashing in the wind. Louis pulled the duvet over his head, grumbling.

_Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat_

One lanky arm fell off the bed and fumbled around the floor for his wand. Louis muttered a silencing spell, and then rolled over, blissfully warm.

Silence.

_BANG_.

Louis leapt out of bed, hair sticking in all directions, brandishing his wand and pillow as weapons. The window had swung completely open in the wind. Grumpily, he flung the objects back on his bed and strode over to slam it shut.

"Hey!" An indignant voice caught him just before he slotted the latch back in place. A very familiar indignant voice.

"Ailsa, what the hell are you doing here?" He asked wearily, opening the window again and leaning out into the strong winds. "Especially at two in the morning."

"Damn it Louis, is this really the time for conversation? Let me in!"

"Well…" he hesitated for a moment, grinning as she rolled her eyes and barged past him, broom dripping water all over his floor. It fell on the planks with a clatter as she tumbled off it onto his bed.

"Hey, hey!" he hissed "be quiet! My parents are downstairs – and Dominique's just next door." The anger left his tone at that and he sobered, leaning her broom against the wall quickly before confronting her again in a more subdued tone.

"Ailsa," he sighed, clearly about to read her the riot act on flying around the country in the middle of the night, but she stopped him.

"Look, Louis" she began forthrightly, brushing the raindrops off her cloak as she laid it across his chair "this is not a big deal. You sounded miserable in all of your letters because of all this family drama that seems to follow the Weasleys like bludgers follow the seeker, so I came to cheer you up. That's all!" she protested, eyes wide and innocent as he regarded her sceptically "Promise!"

"Oh, so this wasn't at all about the fact that you like flying at night."

"Nope."

"Or that your family hate Christmas so you're bored all holiday."

"Nuh-uh."

"Right."

"Except, now my plan is ruined!"

"What plan?"

"Well, I was hoping we could go flying together – it's much more fun that way – but you'd never agree to flying in a storm. At night. With gale force winds. With me."

Louis bristled at her resigned tone. "Why don't we?"

Ailsa raised her pale eyes to his in amazement. "Did you really just say that?"

He wrenched open a cupboard and pulled out his broom, grabbing her hand at the same time. "Why not? We'll have to use mine, because yours is rubbish – no offense – "

"None taken. Besides, I think it's more fun this way." A wicked smile fluttered across her face as she wrapped her arms tight around Louis' chest, sitting behind him on the broom. He tied the window back, and then they were off.

From the still, warm air of the bedroom they were racing along, the wind pushing the broom forward. They danced along the air currents, rising higher and higher until they were almost above the low storm-clouds, until they could see the shadows of rain passing over the hills and streams like a paintbrush. Louis kept the fast pace going, fighting the breezes, rolling with them, both teenagers shrieking and screaming in fear and delight and exhilaration, revelling in the rebellion against the elements.

When they finally tumbled through Louis' bedroom window, laughing softly with exhaustion from fighting so hard to get back, they both collapsed on the floor, breathing hard. Louis turned his head to look at her with a stupid grin on his face, and she met his expression with the same one, and all of a sudden they were kissing, kissing as if they were in the middle of a war zone and this might be their last chance.

Ailsa left with the dawn, flying away in a haze of pinkish orangish light with messy hair and memories of the rough rug on the floor and sleeping wrapped up in someone else's arms. And Louis watched her go with a little bit of love in his eyes, for a girl who cared so much.

**Please review!**


	50. Victoire at 9:00pm

**A/N - Wow, chapter 50? None of my fics have ever gone on for this long! And I've never had so many documents in one folder! Many astounded-yet-ecstatic thanks to everyone who reviewed (and over 100 reviews? You guys are cooler than a toboggan pulled by a bright pink husky in July) and enjoy this slightly different side of Victoire...**

Victoire at 9:00pm

Teddy was slumped on the worn green sofa, eyes closed, snatching a few moments of quiet after Poppy finally fell asleep again. Victoire poked her head around the doorway to the kitchen , frowning.

"Teddy," she sighed, exasperated "could you come and help me instead of slobbing around please?" She smiled tightly as he got up, rolling his eyes, and followed her into the kitchen.

"I'll wash, you dry." She told him tersely. They worked in silence, either from exhaustion after Christmas with their entire family, or from the forbidding set of Victoire's shoulders and Teddy's desperate wish to fall asleep as soon as humanly possible.

But no young couple wants to argue, and no bride could really leave things alone when she wants happiness as bright as the novels she used to read, so Victoire had to break the silence.

"I'm sorry Teddy." She sighed, letting the dishes sink into the soapy water. She turned to him, blue eyes brilliant with remorse "It's just all been a bit much lately, you know? What with Poppy being so fretful, and spending Christmas at the Burrow with everyone else – even if it has been extended – and you know what our family are like, and I'm sorry." She looked at him helplessly, silently entreating him to laugh and tell her it would all be fine and make it alright again.

Teddy's shoulders relaxed, and he set down the dishcloth and gathered his young wife up into a hug, the kind of hug that makes you feel completely protected from the world. He kissed the top of her ear, telling her all the things he knew she needed to hear.

"-I'm not angry, and I should help more." He admitted "Especially with the whole Dominique situation getting to you so much, with Poppy being so young-"

Victoire pulled back and looked into his eyes, bemused. "Dominique situation?"

Teddy smiled hesitantly "It's okay, 'Toire. It's not hard to see, is it?"

"I honestly don't know what you're talking about."

He stared at her in astonishment. "Vic, you've got to be joking!"

"No, really Teddy, what is the 'Dominique Situation'?" Victoire now looked worried, chewing on her bottom lip in agitation.

"She's hardly even here, Vic! It's not as noticeable when you see her on her own, but when she's with all the others she looks like a ghost. She looks like she might snap in half if you hug her too hard. How can you not have noticed?"

"She doesn't look that bad." Victoire protested weakly "I mean, she has lost a bit of weight, but that's probably just the stress of school at the moment. She's fine, really."

"Vic, she's not fine! You're her sister - how can you care so little about her?" Teddy raised his voice, making his wife bristle.

"Well it's not as if she'd talk to me! She's always though she's better than me, always tried to get the attention even when it was meant to be mine." Victoire yelled at him, standing with her fists clenched "And no-one ever calls her out on it! This is another of her _stupid_ tricks to have everyone fussing over her again. And no you're falling for it too!"

"No, 'Toire, I'm not _falling _for it." He replied acidly "I'm noticing that your sister is _ill,_ mentally and physically, and that you need-"

A thin wail rose from upstairs, fretful and unhappy.

"See what you did?" Victoire hissed "It'll take me hours to put her back to sleep now!" She raced up the stairs, leaving Teddy in the middle of the little room, defeated and shocked.

Wearily, he summoned a blanket from the upstairs cupboard, not wanting to brave the hallway in front of his daughter's room, and lay down on the sofa, trying to eke out what comfort he could from it.

And Victoire hugged her baby daughter close, shielding herself from the accusations with the warm smell of talcum powder, and the reassuring warmth of that little body in her arms. She went to bed later wrapping herself in a duvet on the armchair in Poppy's room, not willing to brave their bed alone.

**Please review!**


	51. James at 5:00am

**A/N - Hi again! This is deliciously lighthearted in my opinion, hopefully it'll take the sting out of going back to school for us all! **

James at 5:00am

He blearily pulled himself out of bed, tangling the blankets as he extricated himself from them limb by limb. The dormitory was dark, no light from outside, and James didn't want to wake his roommates, so he got dressed in the dark.

He stumbled down the stairs, shirt untucked and tie half tied, pulling an old sweater of his dad's over his head. He fell into a chair by the window, dumping his books and turning on the small wall lamp. Slowly, he sifted through them, until he found the Transfiguration assignment that was due in for his first lesson.

He knows that he should have done it last night, and he knows that it won't be great because he's still half asleep, but really, what was he supposed to do? No professor would ask him to leave his girlfriend to play chess by herself for a piece of homework.

Okay, every professor would ask him to do that, but James doesn't really care.

So he sets to it, writing dozily about the different uses of Transfiguration in Medicine with a scratchy old quill. He gets about three sentences in, and then he gets distracted and starts thinking about the weekend…

_We can all go to The Three Broomstick's to get hot butterbeer…no! Medicine. Transfiguration in Medicine. Umm…I know! Changing the potions to match the blood type of the patient…right…that's good, that's four things. How many did she want?_

_Ah. Twenty. Let's keep going then._

_I wonder if there'll be bacon at breakfast today. And fried eggs, maybe. Or those little cakes Louis say's come from France – they have a girl's name…Mirandas? Mildreds? Madelines! Those are good…_

_Medicine! Transfiguring medicine. Changing tools during surgery. Changing diseased cells into healthy ones. Changing poisons into tonics. Changing homework into a much needed quidditch practice before the match against Hufflepuff next Saturday. We just need to get used to flying in formation again, now that we've got new Beaters. _

He got it done eventually, which was good. But the discovery that there were indeed a bowl of Madelines at breakfast felt a whole lot better than finishing his Transfiguration homework.

**Please review!**


	52. Dominique at 4:00pm

**A/N - This chapter has been coming for a while, and to be honest I'm quite relieved to have it done. It was pretty difficult to write, so I'm looking forward to seeing what you have to say about it.**

Dominique at 4:00pm

She was standing with them all gathered around her in their space in the library, everyone in their usual places. She looked almost translucent, like some terrible, broken doll only held up by her own resolution.

They waited in silence for the last one to arrive, Lily, slinking through the door with gauzy eyes to take her seat, all nervous and tense and not sure whether to look at their cousin's frightening form or away from it.

Dominique drew in a long breath, tucking her lifeless hair behind her ear.

"I suppose there's no easy way to say this." She began in a small, queer voice that shook ever so slightly "but, um, the thing is…I'm going away."

She said it with an awful finality - the tone of a girl who is dreading the future with a terrible, sick feeling in her stomach, yet knows that it is completely unavoidable.

They absorbed the news like a blow, shocked and yet a little bit relieved, a little bit calmer. Molly was the only one to speak.

"When, Dom?"

Her cousin smiled mirthlessly. She hadn't really expected them to be surprised, but is stung in a muted sort of way that they accepted this so easily, that they had all known.

"I'm leaving this afternoon. Sort of now, actually. All my stuff is already gone, the picked it up half an hour ago, and mum and dad have been in with the head since then."

The room was stiflingly silent, with Dom begging someone silently to make her feel a little better, but all the rest paralysed with fear of sending her off wrong.

Eventually though, Rose spoke.

"Oh, Dom." She sighed, tears starting in her eyes. She melted off the armchair and hugged the frail girl tight, "I'm so sorry."

But they all knew the unspoken words, the "don't be sorry", the acknowledgement that this had to be that lurked behind every grim, unhappy face.

"It's okay." Dom whispered into her hair "it's okay."

Rose stepped back, looking her full in the face. "No. No, it isn't okay. But it will be, yeah?"

Dom smiled, starting to cry just a little. "I hope so." She said in her broken voice, straight from her broken heart.

Suddenly, they all moved, and Louis had them both in his lanky arms, and then everyone was hugging her, crying, promising to write all the time. Still uncertain, but offering whatever comfort they could.

And then, she left.

Just like that.

And they didn't know how she felt on the way home, how the house felt empty when she arrived, how she cried herself to sleep the first night in glorious exhaustion.

The exhaustion she'd been praying for.

**Please review.**


	53. Fred at 1:00pm

**A/N - Back at school, back with Fred, back to slower updating because I have essays to write as well - I'm sure you all get it :)**

Fred at 1:00pm

He sent her the message, and she said she'd be here, so he doesn't know why he's so nervous. He's chased the first years out of this little alcove on the fifth floor, moved the chairs so they all face the little table, sorted out what he wants to say. But he can't stop pacing. Suddenly, he hears the clatter of footsteps coming up the stairs, and hastily he settles in a chair.

_Be cool, Fred. It's not a big deal._

Caroline comes around the corner with a pleased little smile and a flash of wicked thoughts in her eyes, taking the seat opposite him. They sit in silence for a moment, neither wishing to begin the discussion, until she eventually cracks.

"So, Mr Weasley." She says composedly, crossing her legs and leaning back. "What is all this about?"

"I want a truce." He replies bluntly "and a sort of partnership."

She smirks. "I hadn't pegged you for the type to give up so easily."

"I'm not giving up." He looks at her warily, as a hunter might look at a panther who circles him ever so casually, deciding whether to attack or not. "I've realised that divided we're just a nuisance – but _together _we could become legends."

"I'm not sure I want to be a legend." She replies, a hint of petulance in her tone "Doesn't that sound like an awful lot of work to you?"

"Not if we work together."

It's a stand-off of wills as they regard each other, trying to read the unreadable expression they both wear, gauging the character of the other as far as they can. After a long moment, she speaks.

"I think I'll take you up on your offer, Fred."

"Good. Shake?"

"Gladly."

A bond seems to have formed – the defensiveness drops, and Caroline bestows a wide, sparkling smile on him.

"Now," she says conspiratorially "Now we just need a name…"

**Please review! **


	54. Molly at 10:00am

**A/N - Molly again! This girl is just adorable, no?**

Molly at 10:00am

Molly had always been a dreamer – the girl who wishes and wants and waits for high romance, for kissing in thunderstorms and running away at midnight and flouting the world for the one you love with your entire being.

But she's growing up, and she's learning that maybe, just a little maybe, the confused, fumbled, bashful beginnings of relationships are sweeter than the most deep and romantic speeches delivered in moonlight.

And this thought doesn't come in a flash of realisation, nor with heralding and prophetic signs like she always assumed revelations do, but slowly. Gradual as the slow creep of spring that fills her mind from February onwards.

And she's changing her mind on a lot of things in the wake of this. Even now, as she's walking to her next lesson with his arm around her waist, she's thinking about a thought that pounced on her last night.

They had been sending each other notes by owl from their dormitories, and something he worte had made here smile and laugh and think _oh goodness I love this boy._

Which is how it was always supposed to go – she was always meant to meet someone and fall in love in a whirlwind and surprise everyone by transforming into some magnetic beauty, like Lily or Roxanne.

But now…now she thinks maybe she was wrong. Maybe you can't fall in love so fast. Maybe that's a good thing.

Maybe it's better to just enjoy the smiles, laugh at the joke, revel in being young and happy and, above all else, free. To not be 'in love', or 'meant to be', or 'perfect'. Just (even though she cringes at the cliché), just to be. And be, together.

And she smiles brightly and laughs brighter, and he thinks the same. Not _I adore this girl,_ not _she is the centre of my life_, not _I'm going to marry her,_ because those aren't concerns for fifteen year olds.

But he thinks _Merlin she's pretty when she laughs. _

And she thinks _His arm feels just right around my waist._

And for now, that's just great.

**Please review!**


	55. Albus at 10:00pm

**A/N - Happy Sunday! Albus may just have got into something he shouldn't have...**

Albus at 10:00pm

"I have an idea." Anna said as they were all sitting under the night sky, her eyes gleaming in the moonlight. They had found a space where two of the gently sloping roofs met, creating a small, balcony-like space with one large window to the tower for access, craftily concealed by a tapestry on the inside. This had become their meeting place – high above everyone else, private and almost impossible to find if you didn't know exactly what you were looking for.

And now they were sitting sprawled across old rugs and cushions around a blue flame conjured by one of the boys, as Anna held court. She sat straight, her robes discarded and a colourful shawl thrown around her shoulders, the gold threads reflecting the flickering light of the fire. "An idea" she continued "that will make our name in this school."

"Anna, why do we need to make a name for ourselves?" drawled a lean, elegant boy who was stretched out beside her, idly playing with the tassel on a cushion. "It's not as if we're the underdogs here." This elicited a quiet laugh from the group, edged with a sinister meaning that slipped past Albus just too fast to take hold.

Anna tossed her hair back, ignoring him, and carried on. "No" she insisted "this will make us famous,"

"Infamous, more like." Tanya interjected sharply, lounging against Albus, her blonde hair spread out on the throw.

"Well, does it matter? As long as we're remembered! And think of the fun we'd have watching all the chaos…"

"You've not actually told us the idea yet. Anna." Albus reminded her gently, a little apprehensive. Anna bridled.

"I would have, but I was interrupted." She smiled wickedly, quirking up the side of her mouth as she looked around the group. "I want us to cast a spell over the entire school that will make them tell the absolute truth for an entire day. Excepting ourselves, of course. We'll walk around as usual, watching the silly little people embarrass themselves."

"That does sound amusing…" Tanya sat up, eyes alert, considering this plan. "But how would we get the spell over the whole school?"

"I don't know yet." Anna replied quickly, her mind fizzing with possibilities "Does anyone have any ideas?"

Tanya nudged Albus with her pale elbow, looking up at him with expectant eyes. "Mr Potter, what wisdom do you have to add?"

"Well, when is the first time that the whole school is together?"

"Breakfast." A boy replied acidly "but we're not going to spike the pumpkin juice. That has no style."

"I wasn't thinking that." Albus retorted "But we could get above the tables and spread a sort of web of spells to fall down on them, with ourselves out of harm's way – what do you think of that?"

Tanya grinned widely, her sharp teeth reflecting the starlight. "It's genius. But now we need a spell – I assume you've thought of that, Anna?"

"I found one in my grandfather's books over the holidays, before I visited you. It's in Spanish, but I can easily teach it to you."

"Wonderful." The blonde girl smiled menacingly "and it will be brilliant to see all those dumb, stuck up idiots making fools of themselves all day. Serves them right for thinking they're so good – especially when we're so much better than they are."

**Please review!**


	56. Roxanne at 11:00am

**A/N - It feels like an age since I last updated - school and everything, slowing me down, but hopefully things should get more manageable soon :)**

Roxanne at 11:00am

_It's always going to be difficult when you set out to change who you are into who you want to be. There's always going to be someone who pushes you back, forces you into your box and tries to make you stay there. That's not going to be me. I won't let them. I'll be new._

Roxanne walked out of the Great Hall and straight into a tall, brown haired boy she knew by appearance. She stumbled into him, recoiling and apologising profusely all at once.

"Oh, Merlin, that was so dumb, I'm so sorry."

"Hey, it's fine." He smiled down at her, brown eyes warm "You're Roxanne, right?"

"You've got the advantage then – I don't know your name!" She sparkled without meaning to, smiling and preening just a little before remembering herself, and snatching her hand away from his arm.

"It's Harry." He said, unabashed. A slightly awkward silence followed, until he asked "Can I walk you to your common room? Wouldn't want you knocking into anyone else." He smiled rakishly, dangerously, the kind of boy who could steal your heart with the whisper of a kiss.

They walked up the staircases slowly, chatting animatedly, and Roxanne was tentatively beginning to hope for that long awaited _friendship. _A connection which wasn't for kisses, or anything else, but just because she liked him and he liked her and that could be enough.

But they carried on walking until they got to the fourth floor, and then he caught her wrist and pulled her into the corridor.

"Hey!" the word jerked out of her throat as she was whisked around the corner and pressed against the cold stone wall.

"Shhh." He said, the sound muffled by her neck.

His hands were everywhere, running up her leg, under her school shirt, tugging her hair and Roxanne fought and kicjed and scratched and finally screamed and pushed him away from her, backing to the door with fear on her face and adrenaline pumping.

"What the hell?" he spat at her, getting up off the floor and advancing menacingly "Roxy, it was just a bit of fun. Everyone knows what you're like."

She gasped, the icy shock of his words and the bruise on her mouth freezing her for a second.

Then, she punched him. Hard and fast, in the eye, and left him on the floor again whilst she fled to the toilets.

And there, she stumbles in, scared and shocked and shaken. Falling to the ground she retches, heaving and sobbing onto the cool tiles as the cold shame spreads over her skin like a cloak.

Later on, in her warm dormitory with the curtains on her bed drawn, she feels better. Stronger. Because he had no right, and he deserved what he got – but at the same time she recognises the girl within herself who would have responded differently just a few weeks previously. The girl who did let anyone kiss her in dark corridors, the girl who cheerfully let other people's boyfriends feel her up, the girl she was trying to escape.

And all this does is strengthen her resolve to change – change her actions and her reputation. So that no-one ever assumes that about her again.

**Please review!**


	57. Hugo at 3:00pm

**A/N - Happy Sunday! So yeah, it looks like this term I'll be updating on Fridays and Sundays, given the mountains of work! Merci for the patience, and enjoy.**

Hugo at 3:00pm

"Hey. Hey, Hugo!"

A stocky boy with black hair ran to catch up with him, stumbling a little on a robe that falls just an inch too long. Breathless, he gasps out a question at the boy.

"Didjagotothepuddlemorestadium?"

"What?" Hugo replies absent mindedly, rummaging through his pockets for something.

"The Puddlemore Stadium." The shorter boy looked at him expectantly, jittery with the excitement "I heard your aunt took you there this holiday, and _yougottomeettheteam?"_

"Oh. Yeah. It was awesome." Hugo kept walking, taciturn, and the boy skittered after him, almost tripping on his trailing robe, hoping for some more detail than this.

On realising that he wasn't going to volunteer any more information, the boy made one last attempt to hear about this.

"Well, some of us are meeting up later to play quidditch. After the Hufflepuff practice – it normally finishes at five. If you want to join in, we'd be cool with that." He shrugged his shoulders, desperate to appear cool. It's lucky Hugo's not very observant, because his desperation to learn all about this trip is blatantly obvious.

But Hugo doesn't see, and so it happens that come five o'clock, he is trudging down to the pitches with his broom in his hand. He's a bit nervous, but a little flattered. Everyone at home had accepted the trip as standard – most of them had already been – and he'd not really been able to talk about it.

But here, with four other boys all as fanatical about the sport as he is, he can describe and discuss and enjoy till his heart is content.

Even if they miss dinner.

And almost curfew.

It definitely feels like it's worth it.

**Please review! **


	58. Lucy at 7:00pm

**A/N - Shoot and darn it, I'm late with the first deadline I set myself! I hope you can all forgive me with this slightly longer than usual chapter :)**

Lucy at 7:00pm

It's dim in the library, little globes of warm light surrounding the students as the rest of the room descends into shadows. The bookshelves loom large on the ground floor, and the little spiral staircases in the corners could almost look sinister next to the grey stone hung with darkness.

Lucy is sitting on a table on the little balcony half way up the high-ceilinged wall. She'd found an old velvet cushion somewhere, hauled it up and ensconced herself in the small gap where the table meets three bookshelves. She can see most of the room from her vantage point, above the librarian's desk, but they can't see her and she's not watching them.

She's engrossed in a book, large and dusty. It's bound in red leather that feels soft in her pale hands, the corners strengthened with heavy bronze clips. The title has long since worn off, but she thinks it was written in gold letters across the front. Anyway, she's more interested in what's inside.

It's about magic, of course, but not the magic that they're taught in school. She's trying to learn old magic, the kind that isn't scientific or predictable or even learnable sometimes. This is the magic that makes you think of fairytales, and dust motes floating in the like, and marvellous vibrant characters. This is the magic that taps into your soul for power, requiring your heart and mind and voice for it to work properly.

And Lucy sort of likes that. The idea that you have to give your all for the best magic, and this is certainly better than anything she's ever seen before. It's not sinister, though she supposes it could be in the wrong hands. All the great and grand things her sister dreams about are woven through this book, hints of princes and witches and enchantments over entire kingdoms make it seem a little frivolous.

The spell she's found is wonderful. She's been reading the three pages on it over and over for the last hour. It's a spell to conjure a bower, and (even though she's not entirely sure what that is) she wants to try it. So she slips off the table and down the twisting iron staircase, out of the library door before a single person sees her. Just one slight girl, slipping through the shadows, she reaches the oldest, dustiest classroom she knows and sets down the book. Then, stepping back and shaking her sleeves away from her hands, she begins to cast the spell.

Slowly, she intones these words, moving her wand in the correct pattern:

"Fac pulcherrima."

She waits for a moment, laden with expectation, but nothing happens. Disappointed, she pores over the book once more, looking for the reason. She tries again and again, each time putting more dignity and pomp into the ceremony until the lack of result threatens tears of frustration.

Then, something catches her eye. A small note, at the bottom of the page.

…_for this spell to be successful, the caster must have hope and vivacity, just as is found in those who dwell in such bowers as he wished to create…_

Lucy frowns for a moment, but then her brow clears and she takes a slow, measured breath. With a small smile on her face, she says the spell again, almost questioningly, but with the assurance of one who hopes that she's done the right thing anyway.

At first, nothing happens, and Lucy almost turns away, but then a change begins. From her feet, a thick blue carpet begins to creep out, covering the battered floorboards with warmth. Patterned fabrics fly across the walls from nowhere, hanging in sumptuous swags of silk, and candles spring out from above them in pretty silver sconces. The ceiling is domed, just low enough to make the room cosy, and painted dark blue. There are thousands of tiny gems set in it, and they catch the light of the candles and sparkle like the very friendliest of stars. The desks morph into low sofas and armchairs, and there are bookshelves full of brightly coloured tomes. A dressing table sits in front of the shiningly clean window, laden down with bottles of sweet perfume all with their own ribbon.

Lucy gasps, and her eyes open wide with each new wonder, and suddenly her feet are no longer fixed and she's laughing, smiling, running about joyfully trying each tiny detail out. She discovers hidden boxes in the tables, and a silver backed hairbrush on the table, and a gorgeously soft bed covered in warm blankets behind a screen of filmy silk.

And after she's finished playing, when her hair is mussed and her face is fairly shining with all her happiness, she only has one thing to say.

"I'm _so _doing this to my room at home."

**Please review!**


	59. Louis at 2:00pm

**A/N - Happy Sunday! I have to say, I am growing to love Louis :) He's just so refreshingly simple sometimes! Enjoy!**

Louis at 2:00pm

He wheels around the corner to the Charms classroom, robes sweeping around behind him as he gasps for breath, stopping short when he sees the unforgiving gaze of Professor Tullius.

"It's always the Weasleys who are late." He remarks to the rest of the class icily as Louis goes to his seat, catching Ailsa's eye as he does. She grimaces in sympathy, but Tullius hasn't finished yet.

"You know," he continues, leaning on his desk as he warms to the subject "I believe it's always been that way. Talking to my colleagues immortalised in paint, they all have some story about a Weasley disrupting their classes in some way, whether because of poor punctuality or a profusion of pyrotechnics."

A nervous titter arose from the class, who were all casting glances at Louis as he prepared to endure this. Tullius was a notoriously strict teacher, so this wasn't necessarily personal – he'd rip into anyone who arrived late. There was a rumour that he once upset a pupil so much that she dropped Charms altogether – though no-one could say who it was.

"But then, you aren't all Weasley, are you? I believe your mother is French, isn't that so, Mr Weasley?"

"Yes Sir." He said, grudgingly.

"Infamously uncaring of schedule, the French." He said, nodding to the rest of the class, who all studiously avoided his gaze. "That must contribute to the problem. Perhaps you should take a lesson in time-keeping, Mr Weasley. I'm sure that can be covered tonight in your detention. My office, seven o'clock, if you can manage to remember that. Now, let's get on with this illusion charm, shall we all? Page two hundred and four - and you don't need to discuss It, Miss Leathstone."

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief that it was over for now – no-one in this class enjoyed Tullius' rants, especially not directed at someone as well-liked as Louis. The rustling of books and the scratching of quills was the only sound there was for a few minutes. Eventually, the oppressive atmosphere lightened and some people began to chat in low voices, tolerated by the prickly professor.

Louis kept his head down, condensing the reams of text into notes he could more easily learn, but a scrap of light green paper scuttled onto his desk, like a small pastel crab. He unwrapped it, smoothing the much creased scrap out so he could read the words.

_Bad luck – he's been looking for someone to rag since the first years played that awful prank in his lesson last week! –A x_

He smiled to himself at the familiar handwriting, scribbling a response hastily and sending the little creature crawling back down the long desk, clambering over books and around loopy feather quills.

**Yeah, it's not as bad as it could have been. At least it's just a detention with him, James once had to clean out the Owlery!**

_That sounds disgusting. And cruel. I bet he loved giving that one out! Do you have much going on after school tonight?_

**I didn't before this, but now I have detention – nothing before though. D'you want to practise this charm later on?**

_Sounds great. Common room at 5? _

**See you there.**

* * *

><p><strong>Please review!<strong>


	60. Rose at 6:00pm

**A/N - Happy Friday! And potential-soonish-snow-day for those of you in England :) Gosh, 60 chapters? And over 100 reviews? Thank you so much! And I hope you like this one too, it's really quite fun :) **

Rose at 6:00pm

"Dear Merlin, but I'm exhausted!" Rose says, collapsing on the worn sofa in front of the fire. Hugo scowls at her, because she accidentally kicked his game of gobstones, and she sticks her tongue out at him in retaliation. But she does move her legs, crossing her ankles on Scorpius's lap. He rests his book on them, smiling at her.

"What happened to you today then, Lady Rosie?" he asks absently, scribbling something down in the margin.

"Not one thing that I can remember that might have made me this tired!" she says, throwing her arms back dramatically and clipping a passing first year on the elbow. "I mean, it was a perfectly normal day, but it feels like it was three of those in the time given for one. I could quite happily fall asleep for a whole week right here."

"Or" Scorpius said, shoving his book into the bag beside him "you could play Wizard's Chess with me for a while, and then go to the kitchens for ice cream before you fall asleep." He eyes gleamed and he grinned mischievously, silently persuading her to agree.

Rose regarded him for a moment.

"Oh alright then." She said with an exasperated sigh, swinging her legs down and catching Hugo's shoulder, making him exclaim angrily. "Sorry Hugo! Blame this idiot whose idea it was to make me move." She held out a hand and Scorpius pulled her up, leading her over to the window while protesting his innocence to Hugo, who frowned and went back to his game.

They set up the board quickly, both old hands at this, and soon they were playing furiously.

"Hah! Die, white knight!"

"That was my last pawn!"

"And now he's dead. Move on, sweetheart!" she grinned at him, fully alert now.

"Hrm. Bishop to E7."

"No! My queen! I can't believe you did that!"

"Move on, sweetheart." The blonde boy mimicked her, grinning across the field of carnage that lay between them.

"Cocky little-" she mumbled, but he caught her out.

"Hey! Rosie, think of the children!"

"Damn the children. I need to get you back for that."

Her mind worked feverishly through the next few moves, turning over every possibility. She realised that if her castle was just three squares forward, she could get him straight into checkmate – but the castle couldn't move there without being taken at once. Hermione's daughter ran through every strategy in every book she'd ever read to fix this, but she couldn't remember a single one.

But she's not just Hermione's daughter – a spark of pure Weasleyness ignited in her brain, giving her just the plan she needed.

A few goes passed, and then Rose made her move.

Looking up at Scorpius through her eyelashes, she smiled a little and leaned over, and while whispering in his ear,

"Thank you for making me feel better, Scorpius."

She kissed him softly. Then, as he was far too occupied with her lips to be paying any attention to the game, she quickly move the castle to the desired place.

He hadn't noticed by the time the game finished.

"Checkmate!"

"Wait, what? How did you do that?"

"Natural talent. It's a Weasley thing, we don't expect you to understand." She grinned glibly at his astonished expression, jumping up and dragging him with her. "Come on, it's ice cream time!"

They returned to the tower at elevenish, dodging the patrols as they slip through the portrait hole into the warmth again. They kiss goodnight at the bottom of her staircase, and Rose slowly goes up to bed with the taste victory and mint chocolate chip ice cream on her lips. Scorpius goes to put the board away before he does the same, but stop short when he realises what escaped him earlier.

_I'm going to have to get her back for that tomorrow._

__**Please review!**


	61. Lily at 8:00pm

**A/N - Wow, there's another segment done! This chapter is a bit violent, but not in a blood-and-guts way, more in a menacing manner. But it's still T, so you should all be fine :) Happy Sunday and hopefully snow day tomorrow if you live in England! Even if my school claims it will be open as usual [ **

Lily at 8:00pm

They're sitting in the centre of this group, Lily and her prince, surrounded by laughing admirers and sycophantic followers. The conversations ore sharp and fast and witty, but always at someone's expense. Lily has her hand on his knee, his arm around her waist, and they glance at each other adoringly every so often, as it they can't quite believe their luck.

Everyone's envious, that much is obvious. The way the girls not in the circle whisper with eyes like needles, and how the boys scowl when he moves a little closer to that colourful, shining girl at the centre of it all. Lily's revelling in the attention, but there's something softer underneath the triumph. She's blushing a little, and her stomach is filled with a peculiar warm and fluttery feeling that she wishes would go away – and yet she doesn't want to lose it.

She's excited, and ditzy, and she's trembling when he touches her – and it's made her a thousand times more beautiful than she was with the hard edges and slick comments. Now, she almost glows with happiness, and as people gradually melt away to bed they are strangely happy for her, even if she does appear to have everything.

But soon, they've all gone, and it's just him and her, together on that sofa. She falls back, wriggling into the crook of his arm with a sigh of contentment.

"Oh, I thought they'd _never _all leave." She says with a sigh, stretching up to kiss him.

But he doesn't react like she believed he would – he lets her kiss him passively, as if enduring it, but as she moves closer he shrugs her off brusquely, moving to the other end of the sofa.

"Back off, Potter." He snaps, all semblance of affection gone.

Lily stares at him, confused. "Are you okay? Did I say something wrong?"

He scowls. "Don't act dumb, Lily. We both know this is just for show. As if I'd ever go out with a Potter! I need to be Head Boy, so we're just going to have to put up with each other until that's sorted."

She feels as if the wind has been knocked out of her, staggering a little. "Excuse me?" she asks, her voice quavering.

He glances up, and his expression changes from annoyance to mocking. "Oh." He replies "you actually believed that I liked you? You're more stupid than I took you for then."

Lily takes this like a punch to the chest at first, leaning on the bookshelf while he flicks through a magazine idly. But then the shock wears off, and suddenly there's anger coursing through her veins like whiskey on fire, and she grabs some stupid little statue and flings it at him. He dodges it, jumping up and striding over, trapping her against the wall in seconds, no escape possible.

He catches her wrists roughly, pinning them to the wood panels behind her, and hisses in her face.

"You bitch." he swears, his breath hot on her cheek as she struggles to get free. "Try something like that again and I swear you'll regret it. I'll ruin you, your family, everything."

"You can't do anything." She spits at him, still fighting back, trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

He laughs. Low, darkly, mirthlessly.

"Oh I can, princess." He sneers the word in her ear, making her flinch away from him "just ask your cousin Roxy."

And with that he throws her back, making her stumble and fall to the floor next to the wall as he strides from the room, not looking back once.

**Please review.**


	62. Louis And The Committee

**A/N - Sorry for missing the Friday (again)! I couldn't log on :/ but I hope you like this enough to make up for it!**

Louis And The Committee

**The Spring Ball**

**ATTENTION!**

**Each House must provide two Sixth Year representatives to help plan this year's Spring Ball: one boy and one girl. Seventh Years may not apply this year, to avoid distractions from work. The Ball will be held on the last Wednesday of this term, from six o'clock to midnight. The committee will meet every Wednesday after school. Please sign up below to volunteer.**

"That's so exciting! Are you going to apply, Mel?"

"Nah, I have practice after school on Wednesdays, and besides, I'm rubbish at planning things like that! What about you?"

"Don't think I will, I get too much homework Wednesdays to add something else to the list! I hope we get good reps this year – apparently last year was awful because they left everything to the Gryffindors!"

"Yeah, I heard the entire hall was painted red and all there was to eat was sausages."

The girls swished away from the blue noticeboard, and at once Ailsa leapt up from her chair and scanned the notice over.

"Hey, Louis!"

"What?" he asked from his seat by the window, where he was wrapped up in a book about disguising potions, scribbling notes on a roll of parchment beside him.

"D'you want to be on a committee with me?"

"Sounds nice." He replied absently.

"Great. It's every Wednesday straight after school, so we can go to the meetings straight from Transfiguration."

"Cool."

"And the House representatives have to go to the ball together, so you'd better figure out how you're going to ask me."

"Of course."

She stepped lightly over to him and kissed his cheek, catching his attention at last.

"hmm?"

Ailsa laughed happily, rushing up the spiral staircase to the girl's dorms.

"And have fun figuring out what I was saying to you!"

"What?"

"The noticeboard, you idiot!" her voice floated down to him, and he heaved his lanky frame over to the message pinned to the board, and realisation slowly dawned when he saw their two names written in her pretty handwriting.

"Right then." He muttered, bemused. "I think I'd better find out how to ask a girl to a ball. Why do I need to ask her if we're already going together? I'll ask James. He'll probably know. I hope."

**Please review!**


	63. Rose And The News

**A/N - I'm posting twice today, in honour of half term! And to say a huge thank you to those of you who've stuck with this story so far :) I owe you a whole lot of hugs and virtual cookies!**

Rose And The News

The owls swooped down on the pupils, some skidding on the table and almost upsetting goblets, while the older owls dropped their parcels from above and flew away again. Almost every student gets something, whether it's a crumpled envelope from a younger sibling or a newspaper with the warm ink smeared by the hands that sent it off or a package from a mother who worries about how much you're eating. Everyone rips into them at once, with exclamations of delight and surprise and disappointment at the contents and news and articles.

But Rose stares uncertainly at the crisp cream envelope in her hands, at the small handwriting that drew her name in violet ink. She knows who it's from, knows all too well each letter from countless notes passed between desks and late night study sessions in the common room. And an awful foreboding comes over her, and she doesn't want to open the letter and find what's inside.

Because as far as she knows, Dominique is getting better. She's calmer and going back to herself and away from this terrible monster that possessed her – but what if this letter tears all that down? What if it says that she's rebelling, clinging to her illness, to her problems?

Her hands tremble as she slowly unpins the wax seal embossed with a strange crest which she does not recognise, of two otters almost dancing together. For a fleeting, heart-wrenching moment she can't see a letter inside, thinks that Dom sent her just an empty envelope in some strange, resentful metaphor – but then she sees it. The folded over paper covered in dense lines of text.

_Dear Rose,_

_I don't know how to start this. We've never had to write to each other before because we've always been too close – wither the same dorm or just the other side of the fields at home. So this feels weird, but I suppose I'll have to get used to it.  
>I don't know for how long exactly I'll be here, but they did say that it won't be before I've stayed for two months. That's the smallest estimate. I'm somewhere in Cornwall, and I can actually see the sea from my window. It's strange to think that this is the first time I've seen the sea, and I'm all by myself. Well, not completely. There are two other girls here, and lots of staff.<br>Please write to me. Maman and Dad came to drop me off, and they say they'll visit every weekend – but I miss my friends, Rosie. There are some things I don't want to talk about with my parents, no matter how nice they've been.  
>I'll tell you more with my next letter – I'm meant to be asleep right now, so I can't really say much because they'll be checking around soon.<em>

_Love, Dom._

Rose sat there, re-reading the words over and over, feeling as if she was out in the snow in just pyjamas. Goosebumps shivered over her arms in waves as she tried to get a sense of her friend in the words. Dom didn't sound herself, barely seemed able to keep to the same subject for a sentence from the letter. She sounded defeated.

Rose sat through her lessons that day almost catatonically, turning the words of the letter over and over in her mind, slowly going through them and searching for a real message other than just chilly sentences about the place and the time and the people. Lily and Roxanne read the letter that evening, but neither could think of a thing to say. The three of them just sat there in silence, all painfully aware of the situation. All saddened and sickened and heartbroken over their cousin's life, but unable to understand and unable to push down the idea that perhaps this was for the best after all.

**Please review!**


	64. Lily And The Pretence

**A/N - Happy Sunday! Warning: this chapter is reasonably upsetting and violent, featuring a character who would absolutely terrify me. Next update is during the week, because it's half term!**

Lily And The Pretence

It's all she can do not to recoil when he touches her, not to spit in his face and fly to the other side of the room whenever he laughs charmingly or comments on how pretty she is or makes them all love him, love them together.

But she can't. Because she's afraid, more afraid than she's ever been in her life. For the first time in her life, there's someone who has power to hurt her and those she loves – and he's sitting close beside her on the loveseat, fully aware of the danger he poses. She's quivering like a string stretched too tight and she knows he can feel it from the vice-like pressure he puts on her waist, and she's trying to stop but she can't.

"I'm sorry." He apologises to the little group by the library with a smooth smile and words like a dagger on silk "but we have to go. Lily and I planned to go for a walk this evening, and it's already getting dark outside."

He rises, pulling her up gently and kissing her cheek when she joins him. Lily keeps her face blank, passive, only offering a stilted smile to the onlookers who are cooing over their 'relationship'. Then they're leaving, leaving the warmth of the room and the safety of the large group. And for a moment while they're alone, his manner doesn't change and the thought that _maybe_ he'll apologise and say he was wrong flashes into her mind.

But in a split second they're out of the castle and he's as cold as the February air that slices through her thin shirt and makes her face numb.

"What the hell?" He hisses, pushing her away from him roughly. She stumbles and falls on the gravel, bruising her hands. But as she tries to get up he's there again, grasping her wrists and pulling her up, too close, making her struggle and twist her head futilely to rid her of his face. "Do we have to go over this again, Princess? You act like you're head over bloody heels for me, I do the same, you stay popular and your cousin doesn't get hurt. What's the problem?"

"I'm trying." She gasps, fighting for breath and composure as she panics. "but-"

"Not hard enough!" he spits. Suddenly there's a sound, and he looks around, alert. He pulls her behind a bush, one hand over her mouth while the other holds her against the tree, ensuring she can't break away. The footsteps get closer, louder and sharper – but they die away again before anyone discovers them. He relaxes, and she takes the opportunity to bite his hand and shake her head free of it.

"Shit!" He leaps back, staring in horror at the blood blossoming from the sharp cut. Anger rolls over his expression like a thundercloud, and he slaps her across the face and she against the bramble bush, the thorns tearing her long sleeves so that the bruises where he grabbed her wrists are visible.

"I don't want to do this." She says in a low voice, glaring at him hatefully from her side of the little clearing. "I want you to leave me alone. I know that you won't and I have to. But remember this – one day you are going to regret every time you've touched me, and every single time you've hurt me."

The venom in her voice would have made most men worried, but he shrugs it off.

"You'll not tell anyone." He sneers. "You're going to come back into that library with me right now and convince everyone how perfect we are together, or you'll regret it straight away, not just 'one day'. Get it?"

She nods sullenly, repairing the sleeves of her shirt with a silent spell. He slips her arm through his and they proceed to the castle slowly. From a distance they could be any of the couples in Hogwarts – just two teenagers, half way in love already.

That's exactly what the pupils they join see: the charming, strong, funny boy who looks like a man, and his beautiful girlfriend who laughs at his jokes and makes everyone at ease while commenting with her own sharp humour which reminds them of her brother. They touch each other without seeming to realise it, as she strokes his cheek and he holds her hand. The glances they exchange are tender and sweet. They remind people of her grandparents – and no comparison could poison Lily's heart more.

As she sits in her room that night, curtains closed tight around her as she tends to her bruised arms and her bleeding pride, she feels sicker in her heart than she ever has before.

**Please review! And don't worry, Roxanne's next chapter addresses the mystery of what leverage he has against her...**


	65. Victoire And The Letter

**A/N - Hi! Gosh, I feel so bad, I was supposed to post this yesterday, but my internet cut out and we only just got it back! Enjoy :)**

Victoire And The Letter

_Oh Merlin, how do I begin this? How do I even start to think about beginning this letter? How do I tell my baby sister that I hadn't realised how alone she was? That I had barely thought about her? How do you apologise for something so unforgiveable?_

She looked at the piece of paper blankly, fiddling with her dark blue quill nervously. Poppy was playing on a mat in the living room, and Victoire could see her through the doorway. Her chubby legs waved in the air as she studied the toys that floated over her. She'd grabbed one and pulled it down, turning it over and over and poking her fingers into every gap. She was a quiet baby, making the minimum of any noise, and she preferred playing with her toys than with the people around her – just like Dom as a baby.

Victoire began to write, in the light green ink Dominique had bought her a few years ago and she'd forgotten about.

_Dear Dom,  
>Poppy reminds me of you. She's so quiet, sometimes I worry about her. When she looks at me with her big eyes and I have no idea what she's thinking, I think of you. How similar you were when you were her age. That scares me more than anything, because when I wonder if my daughter will grow up to be like you, I can't picture who she'll be because I don't know you, Dom. I know what you look like and what you study and where you live in the holidays – but I don't know your friends, what you want to be one day, what made you so unhappy.<br>I don't even know how you got to this clinic. And I should know these things, I should know them all like I know my own name – and it's my own fault that I don't. I didn't even realise that you were so ill. Teddy had to point it out to me.  
>I'm so sorry, little sister. I don't know what I did wrong, but I know I should, and I hope you can find it in your heart to write back to me and forgive me. I want us to actually be sisters again – like it was when we were little. You, me and Louis, remember? I know we're all a lot older now, but I think maybe that's a good thing. Louis's certainly grown up a lot: he's got a girlfriend, and it sounds like he's falling for her pretty hard. If our silly baby brother can have a grown up relationship, do you think we can be friends?<br>Love Toire._

Quickly, before she can re-read it and cringe at her own sentimentality and soon-to-be-crushed hopes, she folds in over and seals it with violet wax. She sent it at once, watching the owl fly into the distance from her kitchen window, wondering where her sister is right now, what she's doing. Half-wishing she was there too.

A gurgle from the living room drags her from her reverie, and she hurries in to check on the baby. Poppy has crawled to the sofa and pulled the colourful blanket off it, rolling around in it until her little limbs are tangled and stuck in the patchwork folds. A choked laugh comes from her mother as she rushes to get the camera, snapping a picture of the confused baby with the big dark blue eyes, staring directly at it, before extricating her daughter from the mess.

A few days, a new picture frame appears on the mantelpiece. On the left hand side is the picture of Poppy, constantly trying to rid herself of this colourful prison. On the right hand side is an older picture of another baby, this one with strawberry blonde hair but the same dark blue eyes, wrapped in the very same quilt. Fleur had given Victoire the quilt when she got married, telling her daughter to wrap her children in it, just as she and her siblings had been.

**Please review!**


	66. James And The Idea

**A/N - Hi! Yes, I'm updating one day after again - and this is a double-chapter-posting day! Because a) it looks like everyone wants to see Dom's reaction, b) I have a killer chapter coming up and I want to show you guys ASAP and c) I have received a shedload [so, seven O_o] of PMs and tumblr messages saying people are bummed out over Valentines Day and need cheering up :) I'm touched guys, really, but _how can you not like Valentine's day? _Anyway, have fun mocking the head girl! Dom's chapter will be up tonight x**

James And The Idea

"Guys. Guys!" he banged a book on the table, finally getting the attention of the chatting students "and girls" he amended, at Alice's glare from beside him. The Ravenclaw Head Girl was strongly opinionated on all topics, and occasionally James' relaxed attitude annoyed her. She began the meeting in a crisp voice.

"Right now, let's get on, shall we? This is the first meeting of the Spring Ball Committee – is everybody here? Two from each house? All Sixth Year? Good. Okay, let's talk through what we need to decide. First, we need a theme. Then we have to decide on dress codes, food, music, decorations, invitations-"

"It's going to be fun." James interjected firmly at the worried faces of the students down the table who were frantically taking notes. Alice frowned at him, and he smirked back infuriatingly. She snorted, shuffling her papers, and continued with the meeting with her nose a little less high in the air.

"Anyway, let's begin with the theme. Does anyone have any ideas?"

She was met with a deafening silence as everyone stared at the table, unwilling to meet the eyes of the haughty Head Girl.

"Really?" She sighed, exasperated "_One _of you must have an idea!"

"Under the sea?" A timid Slytherin girl offered from the other end.

"Don't be clichéd." Alice scoffed

"Arabian Nights?"

"Are you kidding? It's freezing in the Great Hall even with fireplaces along the wall. We'd have the Hospital Wing full of pneumonia cases in ten minutes!"

"Eighties?"

"This is a _ball, _not some scuzzy themed disco!"

"Look," James said with a sigh "let's just make it a masked ball. It's formal enough that the girls can go on big shopping trips for dresses, but the boy – I mean men – don't have to wear stupid costumes."

There was a general noise of assent among the volunteers, but Alice frowned fretfully.

"I don't know…" she said petulantly "It just doesn't seem special enough…"

James sighed in exasperation "What do we have to do to make it 'special' beyond putting a mask on everyone? Doesn't that meet most requirements? We've got mystery, and we can out sparkly things on tables and turn the lights down."

"No." She retorted "it's not enough. It just doesn't _sound _right, you know?"

"Why don't we make it Venetian?" A slight, brown haired girl, the Hufflepuff representative said hopefully. "A Venetian Masquerade Ball?"

An expression of bliss passed over Alice's face, and she bestowed a dazzling, if slightly terrifying, smile on the lucky girl.

"Perfect." She breathed "Absolutely perfect. A Venetian Masquerade Ball."

A nervous silence fell. Everyone exchanged glances as the Head Girl stared into space.

"Anyway." She suddenly snapped out of it. "Let's get on. Next we need to decide on decorations. Now, if it's Venice then we'll need chandeliers. Oh, and maybe we could get the band to play in a gondola? Which could be floating in a pool in the centre of the room? James, do you thing we could get that? Oh, and-"

**Please review!**


	67. Dominique And The Decision

**A/N - Thank you all for reviewing :) Here's Dom's reaction ~**

Dominique And The Decision

_Oh God, Oh Merlin, Oh any celestial or supernatural or just any power, help me, help me, help me._

_I can't believe it. I can't believe she wrote me that._

_What the hell am I going to do?_

She half fell onto the mossy grass, jeans already wet from the walk through the dew to the coastline. It was early in the morning, and when she looked over her shoulder she could see the neat building of the clinic through the fog. She was at the edge of the garden, and the she could hear the waves crashing on the shore, although it was just out of sight.

_Okay, let's think, Dominique. Don't be an idiot, just take a breath and really think for once._

The cold Cornish air whistled around her, thin shoulders trembling as she took a few long, shuddering breaths.

_Victoire wants to be friends. With me. She wants us to be sisters again. We were, before Teddy._

The image of him, smiling and golden in the sunshine flashed across her mind, and reflexively she shook her head to get him out of it. But, as ever, the idea of him clung to her, weaving through her hair like some heady perfume that mystified her long after he himself had left.

_But what can I do? I don't know that I could be her friend, or her sister, while he's there. I don't know if I still love him. I don't know if I can – he's married. To my sister. He has a baby with her, my niece, my goddaughter._

_Oh God, he's never going to leave them. I couldn't ask him to, not ever. It would kill 'Toire, just rip her to pieces. Mum would probably never speak to me again – and Dad would kill Teddy for hurting the both of us. And Poppy – I couldn't be the woman who stole her daddy from her._

_I have to leave him behind. No, I just have to leave the way I once saw him behind. From now on, he has to just be my brother, like Louis. Nothing more, nothing less, for Victoire's sake._

_And maybe things can be as simple as they used to be, before I fell in love with him, before he fell in love with her. Before we all grew up?_

_But I don't know – could I do that? Could I be that girl who is so strong as to abandon the best thing she ever knew for the good of someone else? Could I just forget how I loved him, how he loved me, how we could have been the most perfectly delightfully happy couple in the world?_

_I don't know. _

_But I think I have to._

Lip quivering, she rose and slowly walked back to the house, slipping in the back door and up to her simple room. Carefully, as if considering every movement as of momentous worth, she got out paper and quill and began to write.

**Dear 'Toire,**

**I don't really know what to say, if I'm honest, because there's something I need to tell you, and it's something awful. But at the same time, I don't know if I should tell you, because it is so awful.  
>Will you come and see me please? If I am going to tell you, I need to do it in person.<strong>

**Dom.**

* * *

><p><strong>Please review!<strong>


	68. Fred And The Beginning

**A/N - Thank you all a thousand times for reviewing :) I'm updating twice again today (again? Seriously!) (yes, because I AM posting chapter 70 tomorrow, come what may!), and I'm sorry for being so patchy with review replies, but AGAIN I couldn't log in yesterday! T'was most terrible! But anyway, have fun with two lighthearted(ish) chapters before the drama starts tomorrow...**

Fred And The Beginning

"So, Freddie boy, what's our first prank together going to be?"

"Don't call me that." He said reflexively, digging through a box as they sat in the boys dormitories. She was lying across the end of his bed, peering underneath it while he searched for his dad's old book of best pranks.

"You've got a whole lot of rubbish under here, Freddie boy." She wrinkled her nose in disgust, raising her head to look at him "Are you sure your dad isn't actually down there, mixed up in all that?"

"Caroline, shut up."

"That's not a very good way to treat your partner, now, is it?" she said, smirking as she swung her legs around and sat cross legged, looking down at the lanky boy on the floor. "Did you know my name isn't really Caroline?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'll call you Methuselah from now on, shall I?" he asked sarcastically, tossing shreds of paper aside as he searched, which she levitated into the bin.

"Don't be snarky, we're meant to be friends." She replied calmly "and it's Carolina, actually. My parents are Spanish, but I changed it when I came here, because it was annoying."

"Makes a real difference." Fred grunted. She sent a screwed up ball of parchment flying into the side of his head.

"Hey!"

"Serves you right!"

"I'll get you for that!"

Quickly, they were hiding on opposite sides of the room, and objects were zooming around them in full battle mode. However, after they'd run out of breakable things to throw, they crawled back to the rug in the middle.

"Well, since this is our first prank as a team, we need something amazing, to catch everyone's attention. And preferably something that means my History Of Magic test tomorrow afternoon will be cancelled, so we'd better plan quickly."

"Well, we could go for something classic…"

"Hmm?"

"When my dad was leaving school, he set off fireworks in the main courtyard. Not normal fireworks. Weasley ones."

"Okay?"

"No, listen, we should use the same thing! Their last prank, our first one!"

Her eyes gleamed as she sat up on her heels, considering this."

"I like the idea, but it's missing something…We can't just copy them, we have to make this our own."

"Have the fireworks spell our names?"

"Don't be stupid." She thwacked him lightly with a pillow "I'm thinking we take the prank up a notch – so that instead of setting off fireworks in the courtyard, we set them off _in the corridors._"

"And we avoid killing or injuring people how?"

"Ugh, you're right, we can't do anything dangerous."

Silence fell as their sharp minds worked furiously, and the cold air from outside whistled in through the open window, making her shiver.

"Here, put this on." Fred chucked an old Weasley jumper at her, and she pulled it over her arms with a muffled 'thanks'.

"I've got it!"

"Well, yeah, I saw you catch it?"

"No, the prank you prat. Instead of having the fireworks real, we charm them to shoot just light, then no-one gets hurt!"

"I bet my dad would help me with the charm as well, if I didn't tell him what it was for. Actually, he'd probably help us then anyway."

"You're lucky." She stood and started to tidy some of the debris from the earlier battle, rolling up the sleeves of the jumper from her slender wrists. "my mum is more likely to be manipulating people with magic than she is to be having fun."

"What?" Fred looked at her quizzically, his arms laden down with blankets he'd used to shield himself from the barrage of paper balls.

"It's nothing." She batted the questions away with a wave, refusing to meet his eyes. "I'll tell you another time – now, we need to sort out how to get these fireworks into school in time, because I am not ready for this test tomorrow!"

**Please review!**


	69. Molly And The Argument

**A/N - So this is a different side of Molly...so far we've really only seen her as a part of a couple! Let me know what you think, and if you're as excited as me for tomorrow's drama-fest :D**

Molly And The Argument

"Molly! Hey, Molls!"

She caught up with Molly just in front of the entrance to the common room, a little bit breathless, with her wispy blonde hair all over the place.

"Walking in a dream again, Weasley?" she said with a laugh, grinning. "I just wanted to check we were still on to study in the library later. Please say yes, because I know I'll never be ready for the History of Magic test if you don't explain the Elvan Laws to me again!"

"Of course!" Molly smiled back, balancing her books on her arm "And don't joke, if you don't help me with the dates I'm not going to remember anything about Merlin's charters – they just don't make any sense!"

"Well I'll see you there, straight after dinner then! And don't forget this time!"

She hurried away, and Molly almost fell through the doorway in her haste to set down the piles of books she was carrying. She staggered up the tight spiral staircase and through the worn door into her dorm, slinging the textbooks and notes across her dark blue bedcover. But she doesn't collapse with the exhaustion you would have expected from her demeanour – she leaps up and over to the dresser, pulling out jeans and a soft grey jumper, changing quickly and stuffing her robes into the drawer. She drags a brush through her wavy brown hair, wetting it to play down the frizz that rises during the day, and then she moves on to the bathroom. She scrubs the ink stains from her fingers, the water turning blue and green and black as the marks of a schoolgirl wash down the drain in a swirl.

And with barely the chance to catch a breath, she's whirling out of the door and down the stairs and into the corridor, walking briskly with the nervous flutter teenage girls think is reserved for their hearts, to meet Luke.

xXxXxXxXx

It's late now, and the prefects are gearing up to patrol the hallways and catch people like Molly, love stuck teenagers returning from dates or the hungry ones heading to the kitchens. She's walking slowly though, confident in the last few minutes of the evening, and she's just passing the library when she's accosted.

"Molly, where were you?"

Izzy is standing by the door, her arms full of revision on the Elvan Laws and her eyes drooping with fatigue.

"Hm? Oh I was with Luke." She replies dreamily, still not quite aware of who she's speaking to, how long she forgot for.

Even though Izzy's exhausted, she still has the energy to fix her friend with a glare of hurt and betrayal that kindles the guilt in her belly and burns the butterflies up in a second.

"I should have known." The acid resentment flicks off her tongue like snake venom, even as she fights down tears she labels as silly, because _of course _Molly should be able to go out with her boyfriend, and _of course _their study session isn't as important in the grand scheme of things, but after waiting in the library for three hours, alone, she's not so interested in the rational part of her brain. "You're always with Luke. You've barely spoken to the rest of us since you two started going out – it's like you don't care about anything else anymore!"

She strides past, dashing traitorous tears from her cheeks when she's sure Molly can't see, and leaves the other girl standing shocked in her wake.

Molly walks slower now, without the spring of a girl at peace with the world, but with the heavy tread of someone who has a niggling idea that they were wrong, and they should have known that before. All she wants is to fall into bed and sleep and forget about this – about the test, about the hurt on her friend's face, about the awful guilt and the knowledge that Izzy was right, and she has been neglecting everyone else, but she can't. Because her bed is covered in books, and she has work to do for tomorrow, so she has to gather her heavy load up and carry it to the common room, because her roommates are sleeping, and start work at eleven.

She falls asleep on the sofa half way through her essay on the proper care of mandrakes, and wakes the next morning stiff and cold and regretful, and dreading the conversations she's going to have to have today.

**Please review!**


	70. Albus And The Prank

**A/N - Oh gosh, I've just realised how much I've hyped this chapter, and I've done it on pretty much every media platform I use with fanfiction D: I really hope you guys think it lives up to everything I've said! **

Albus And The Prank

"C'mon, Albus, just cast the spell." Anna hissed, gesturing toward the vaulted ceiling. They were lying on a ledge overlooking the great hall, during dinner. Anna scowled at him as he hesitated, jabbing him had in the ribs. "Merlin, boys." she muttered, pushing him back into the recess and flourishing her long, flexible wand in complex patterns.

Albus slid backwards on the polished stone, shamefaced, and watched the small girl send a stream of translucent shimmer across the hallway. As she wove the tip of her wand in letters and symbols the spell mimicked it, flying around the hanging banners and empty benches like a breeze. Anna was muttering words in a strange language, a wicked gleam in her eyes and an air of anticipation about her. Albus watched apprehensively, contorted in the cramped alcove so that he wouldn't slip out, sending both of them crashing down onto the deadly stone floor.

An eerie silence had crept over the hall, so that the melodic incantation was the only sound, and now he began to notice it more than ever. It sounded like some sort of hypnotic song, and as the shimmering trail mingled with the objects in the hall, her words mingled with his train of thought, and he had trouble looking away from her face. Her pretty features seemed to ripple like water, revealing something only he could see, and from his expression, something terrible. But as she continued to chant, his face changed from terror, to horror, to some sort of enrapture – as if he was afraid, but unable or unwilling to escape.

After a lifetime, she stopped, with a satisfied smirk as she regarded the dining hall. She looked back at Albus, as if wanting congratulations, but one look at his glazed eyes and her expression changed to one of deep frustration.

"Tanya!" she hissed down of the ledge "Send up a broom, Albus caught some of the spell and he can't fly down himself."

"How did that happen?" the blonde looked faintly amused as she floated up to meet them, tossing an old broom to Anna. "I thought you'd be a little more careful, Anna, especially after last time."

"Don't be patronising." The younger girl retorted, swinging onto the broom and out of the small niche "you know I couldn't help it when Adam fell for it, he's too much of an idiot to listen when I tell him what to do. I thought this one would be more helpful, but he couldn't even cast the spell."

"I wonder why…" Tanya mused as they beckoned Albus out. He approached them like a small child who wasn't sure where the lines between fairytale and real were, like a man who had seen something awful but couldn't quite process it. "C'mon, Potter, get on the broom. Yes, behind me, feel free to hold on. We can't have you falling to your death, that would give the game away in no time."

Slowly, they flew down to the ground, and all three looked up at the bewitched ceiling as if they expected to see something. But, as always, the stars twinkled back at them like old friends, as if they hadn't witnessed the sharp edged spells cast by the exotic girl.

"Wonderful." Tanya breathed, a wide smile spreading over her pale face. "Now remind me, Anna, how will it work in the morning?"

"When the owls arrive with the morning post, they'll trigger the spell net so that it falls on the pupils. Everyone stays for the post, so we should get all of them, and when the net falls on them they'll feel a warm sensation – as if someone had spilled wine over their heads. Further than that, they won't notice. And then, for a full 24 hours, they will all have to tell the truth. We won't be affected, because we'll have taken the antidote, but they'll all run around making fools of themselves."

"Hand over the antidote then, I wouldn't want to reveal all my secrets to the school."

Anna reached into her pockets and withdrew three small vials filled with dark orange liquid, about the consistency of golden syrup. She handed one to Tanya, who drained it immediately, and drank her own at the same time. She was just about to help the baffled and spaced-out Albus drink his, but the pale witch stopped her with a cruel smile.

"No." she said, pocketing the vial. "I think we should let Mr Potter handle this alone. He's served his purpose for now, but he's getting above himself. Besides, this way we'll be all he has, after his family find out he's responsible for revealing all their deepest darkest wishes."

Anna smirked, and together they led Albus back to the common room and deposited him outside the boys' dormitories, leaving him there without a thought beyond their own cleverness.

The Hall was buzzing with muted conversations, melding together to create the bustling noise of a school just waking up. Albus was slumped over the Ravenclaw table with his companions, no memory beyond getting up into the alcove from last night. As they heard the distant squawks of the owls, Tanya and Anna exchanged a meaningful glance over his head, and then the first birds swooped through the windows in the roof.

It all seemed normal at first, and then Albus felt very peculiar, as though a bucket of warm water had been poured over his head, yet he somehow remained dry. But he brushed the feeling off, unwilling to complain in front of his friends. After a few minutes, he noticed conversations around him peter off, with people wearing outraged or hurt expressions storming out of the room. A Hufflepuff girl stood up and slapped a boy, who followed her, proclaiming that he was sleeping with her best friend, actually, and he didn't care anyway, with a devastated expression on his face, as if he couldn't stop himself from saying these things. Tears were running down her face unchecked, and she whirled around and confronted him, telling him she loved him, but he carried on insulting her.

Albus looked at them uneasily, beginning to doubt this trick, but Tanya just laughed and pointed out another situation – two boys grappling on the Slytherin table, screaming accusations and recriminations. Then, Albus head a shriek that made him shake, because he recognised it. Lucy. He rose at once to find her, and caught sight of her coppery head surrounded by other girls, taunting her, pulling her robes, spitting out foul words and filthy insinuations. He saw Roxanne striding in to rescue her, but then they turned on her as well.

"Hey, leave her alone, she's just a kid!"

"Like anyone cares what you think, you washed up slut!"

"Watch your mouth, Mafalda!"

"She's right!" a seventh year boy joined in, pulling Roxanne away from the group "You're not exactly chaste, are you Weasley? Not like your little nun of a cousin – except Queen Lily isn't so perfect, is she? Where is her majesty – I've a few choice things to say to her!"

But Lily was being dragged from the Hall by her powerful boyfriend, with fear in his eyes as he began to realise what was happening to them all.

All over the place, there were screaming matches. The teachers tried to break them up, but when insulted were unable to refrain from giving their own opinions on the insulter, despite the horror on their faces as they retaliated. Chaos reigned, along with tears and heartbreak and injuries, except for one little group. Albus' friends sat on their benches, laughing at the terrible consequences around them as though it were the most amusing thing they'd ever seen. Suddenly, Albus was incensed with anger, and was about to go and remonstrate, but someone caught his arm.

"Al." James shouted above the din. "You have to help me get everyone quiet – no-one else will listen to me, I've asked them all! Even the teachers are acting like this!"

The poison that had rankled in his heart for years bubbled up and out in a unstoppable torrent then, spitting in his brother's face like a snake. "You've asked everyone else, and _now _you think to ask me, your brother? I won't bloody help you, James, because you'd never help me. None of you would, you're all too caught up in yourselves to notice me except when I'm the last resort. I hate you, and you all deserve exactly what they're saying, because it's all true. And you know how I know? Because I did this. I cast the spell, and it won't wear off for a day, and I'm glad I did it, because it was what's coming to you, all smug and perfect with your girlfriend and your friends and everything. You've never had to work for anything, and I…I hate you for it."

He wrenched his arm from James' grasp and faced him with triumph on his face, while within him some vestige of consciousness howled in agony, in regret, in sorrow at the anguish on his brother's face.

"You can't mean that, Al." James said, astounded, staring at his brother as if he didn't know who he was.

"I meant every word." He spat, turning and striding back to his group. They gathered around Tanya, who smirked at the oldest Potter as they left, linking her arm through Albus' proprietorially as they left the Hall, leaving devastation in their wake.

**Please review!**


	71. Roxanne And The Secret

**A/N - Quick recap: Albus and his little band stormed out of the Hall unnoticed in the chaos, and afterwards the staff sent everyone to their common rooms while they try to figure out the spell. The prank is still active! Thank you all for reviewing *hearts***

Roxanne And The Secret

Roxanne is curled up next to her bed, jammed into the gap between the post and the wall and she's crying, in huge jolting sobs that threaten to rip her lungs out and she almost wishes they would just so that it would stop.

_Oh God, they all think it? They all think I'm a slut, that I'm worthless, that I'm cruel and I tear people apart for fun? That I should be sent away – or even killed? Oh God, what did I do to deserve that?_

But she knows, and part of her treacherous heart is saying yes, you were a slut and you can see how those other conclusions might have once been drawn fairly from her actions, even as the rest of her rebels against it and fights that anyone could think that of her, when she was only having fun.

But in the midst of her mental struggles, the door flies open and Lily rushes in in a whirl of scarlet hair and tears and a blossoming purple bruise on the side of her face. She throws herself at Roxanne's feet, clutching at her hands and forcing her cousin to look in her eyes.

"Roxy!" Her voice sounds distant through the sobs, but the petite girl shakes her forcefully, bringing her out of her trance-like state. "Roxy! Roxy please, please, I need your help, please listen to me."

She's sobbing too now, and the older girl wakes up a bit and sits straight, shocked out of her misery by her cousin's hysteria.

"Roxy, I need to know what you did with Stuart Merchen, you have to tell me because if you don't I have no way out, and he says…he said that he'd…" she dissolves into hiccupping sobs, hiding her face in her hands, so she misses the colour drain from Roxy's warm skin at the name.

Roxanne pulls herself up so her back is straight against the cold stone wall and breathes one long breath of cold air, praying and hoping and wishing for this to be a dream.

_Please no, please don't let him have told, please Merlin or Circe or any muggle god who might be listening, please let this be something else._

She waits for Lily to calm down a little, staring blankly across the room. At last, the room falls quiet, and Lily's blotched face looks at Roxanne, apprehension clear in her gaze.

"What did he tell you, Lily?" her voice is cool and each word is enunciated perfectly, as if she's concentrating on the words themselves rather than their meanings.

Lily took a deep breath too, sitting so that she leant back against the bed and her feet were pressed against the wall. "Stuart and I have been pretending to be together, so that he can become more popular. I didn't think it was like that at first, but he's been planning this from the very start. I tried to break whatever it is off, and he wouldn't let me. He…he's hit me a few times, and he threatened us all. But he said that whatever he'd do would hurt you the most, and he told me to ask you what it was."

"Oh God."

"Please, Roxy, I have to know, just so I can get away from him. He scares me." Lily's voice quavered, and the bruises on her face and wrist forced Roxanne into an explanation she had dreaded for two years.

"It started when I was fifteen." She said dully, refusing to meet Lily's eyes. "He…I…we were sort of together, just not officially. We never went out, I never told my parents and I don't think he ever told his. No-one here knew either. He was my first time." Her voice cracked, but she kept going after Lily's horrified gasp. "I doubt I was his though. Anyway, I refused to see him afterwards, I was so embarrassed. I mean, it was in a classroom, at lunchtime. Anyone could have walked in, and I was mortified by the whole thing. But then I got a note from him, saying to meet him by the greenhouses that night. I thought he was going to apologise."

Her nails raked down her skirt in nervousness, and she laughed bitterly as she told the next part of the story.

"He almost knocked me out completely, he hit me so hard. He was so pleased with himself. He kept saying how proud he was to have seduced a Weasley. But he'd told me to meet him to make sure I wouldn't tell, because I was only fifteen when it happened, and he's the year above us, and a September birthday, so he was seventeen. I told him I would go straight to Mcgonagall – and that's when he told me what he had."

"What?"

"He said he had pictures." She said it low, in a rush of breath as if she thought he could hear her. "He said he had pictures of me and him, and that if I ever told anyone he'd put them all over the castle, and send them to Grannie, and to my parents."

**Please review!**


	72. Hugo And The Sacrifice

**A/N - Okay, so I meant to post this on Tuesday, but school internet wouldn't let me :/ so because I feel terrible, two updates today and one tomorrow! And I'll reply to reviews tonight :) This is the morning after the day before...such an incredibly useless phrase, but I love it! Enjoy :)**

Hugo And The Sacrifice

They'd all been lined up in the Great Hall, every member of the house. He assumed it was the same in the other houses too – row after row of students, alphabetically. A few rows ahead, he could see James and Lily, both standing straight, while the other Gryffindor Weasleys were next to him. They'd done it by house, so he could only catch glimpses of some members of his family – but he had to stop looking now, because Mcgonagall was starting to speak.

She was behind the big podium on the stage, with the teachers behind her looking serious. She didn't smile down on them, like at the beginning of the feasts – her face was like granite, hard and unyielding.

"All of you will know why we are here." Her voice cut through the air like a whip, startling those who had not been paying attention. "Yesterday morning, some of your number thought that they would play a cruel trick on the entire school, staff included. Intentionally or not, they were the instrument of chaos, at a time when we cannot afford distractions."

A few First Years sniggered, remembering some of the more humourous outbursts, and fondly looking back on cancelled lessons, but the Headmistress silenced them with a glare.

"It would appear," she continued with an even icier tone "that the casters did not realise the true import of these actions, so I will explain them to those victims who are here. The spell that was cast on you all was of a magic that we do not teach you here – an older magic than any of you are able to remember from your own lifetime. This particular example influenced those it touched to only be able to tell the truth – but only truths that could hurt the person that they concerned or told."

A silence fell as the cruelty of the prank sank in to the pupils, and more than a few angry glances and expressions of shock appeared in the crowd. Hugo just looked a little confused.

"However, they were not kind enough to include a memory limit, so you will all be left with these incidents for the rest of your lives." McGonagall's sharp voice brought them back to her, the shame and hurt they had all felt yesterday flooding back. A blonde girl smirked at her friend in the Slytherin block, but no-one noticed. "In light of this, I am asking the culprits to hand themselves in now, and if you do so, we will not involve the Ministry. If you do not come forward, then the Minister will be contacted and this will be treated as a crime, for interfering with the free will of witches and wizards."

A murmur rippled through the rows, excitement and apprehension and questions moving along in whispers.

"Well?"

Suddenly, silence, as everyone furtively looked around to see if anyone would step forward. People were barely breathing, and then, someone moved. A rangy boy stepped out of the Ravenclaw block, and just before he opened his mouth Hugo recognised him: Albus. He opened his mouth to speak, but the voice wasn't his – it was deeper, more assured. James.

"It was me." He claimed, pushing Albus out of the way and facing the shocked body of teachers.

"James, don't be an idiot." Albus hissed "It wasn't. I did it, Professor." He asserted.

"Albus is just trying to protect me." James declared, and his brother stared at him in shock. Albus seemed about to speak again, when another person broke the silence.

"I helped him." Lily slipped through the ranks, her shoulders squared. "And it was just me and James, Headmistress, Albus had nothing to do with it."

"I helped too." Louis joined them.

"And me!" Molly strode forward, her small form determined. Soon the whole family was assembled in the gangway. Hugo shrugged and ambled forward to join them.

"I was there too." He said decidedly, slinging an arm around Lucy's shoulders. "It was a family thing, Headmistress."

McGonagall's mouth hung open in shock. The entire hall seemed to be holding its breath, waiting to see whether the preposterous claim would be taken seriously, or whether she would refuse to countenance such blatant disregard for authority.

"Well, I believe you should all join me in my office. At once. The rest of you will remain here, for a talk on respecting the rights of others." With a flourish of her arm, benches appeared, and the majority of the school sat silently, shocked. Then she led the Potters and Weasleys from the Hall, not speaking until they reached her office.

**Please review!**

**To Karen The Semi-Anonymous Reviewer - thanks for all the reviews! And Albus will have an interesting journey, the end of which I am not yet sure of...but he's got a great family who do love him no matter how he mistrusts them, so I'm sure he'll be fine :)**

**To The Person Who Asks Me For Spoilers On My Tumblr Anonymously - crafty plan, my friend *claps* but I shan't reveal any major plot points, just background details!**


	73. Lucy And The Consequences

**A/N - And so it continues...**

Lucy And The Consequences

They reached the office in silence, no-one daring to rouse their Headmistress' anger, but once the door shut behind her and they were all lined up before her desk, she began to unleash her wrath on them. Sitting in the high backed chair, she fixed them one after the other with a stony glare that made them quake with fear where they stood.

"Will one of you _please _inform me," she enquired acidly "why it is always your family at the root of every upset in this school?"

Silence followed.

"And further than that, who is the real culprit behind this trick? I find it hard to believe that any of you engineered it – I knew all of your parents while they attended this establishment, and I have seen you all from age eleven, so I highly doubt that any of you are concealing such cruelty and disregard for humanity as to do this."

Silence continued.

"Very well." She sighed, removing her iridescent glasses from her nose. "I am afraid I will have to summon your parents – and your grandmother."

_That _got a reaction.

"Professor, you wouldn't-" James entreated her feebly.

"Not grannie?"

"I didn't think she'd actually do that." Hugo hissed to Molly.

"I'm sure we can explain, Headmistress…"

McGonagall fixed on Rose, recognising a weakness in their chain.

"Please do, Miss Weasley, or I will be required to inform your families at once."

"Well…" she began weakly, looking around for help.

"Like I said at the start, Professor, it was all me." James said loudly, and they all started protesting at once, but he waved all their claims away easily, meeting McGonagall's eyes with an open face. "It wasn't meant to be like this – it started as a joke, but I must have lost control of the spell and not realised. As you saw yesterday, I was affected along with everyone else. I'm very sorry, and I'm also sorry that my family decided to cover up for me. They're all innocent in this."

Albus and Louis looked as though they were about to speak, the former red with injustice, and Fred seems about to burst with anger, but James silenced them with a sweeping glare.

"Well then." The Headmistress sighed, replacing her glasses and studying them all. "I'm sorry to hear that Mr Potter, but if you will tolerate no further investigation, I will have to take you at your word."

"I won't, with all due respect, Professor."

"I would have expected no less from you. The rest of you may go. James, please take a seat." She rang a little bell that sat on the side of her desk, and a house elf wearing a scaled down wizard's robe rushed in.

"Will you please inform Mr Potter's parents that I wish to see them at once, Norry." She said it quietly, turning to find the entire family still standing in place. "Out!"

They filed away with many backwards glances at their cousin or brother, who sat straight and tall in his chair, eyes downcast. They paused at the base of the stairs, but none could think of anything to say to make this better. Silently, they dispersed, Roxanne and Lily linking arms, Louis walking purposefully towards the Library, Albus slinking away to the Ravenclaw Tower as though he was being hunted.

Lucy slid down the cold stone wall she was leaning against opposite the hidden staircase and sat on the floor, stretching her legs out on the floor, and waited. No sound came from the office, and eventually the prefects went past on their patrols. One of them made as if to make her move, but the other held him back, pointing out who she was. They sidestepped her carefully and continued as if they hadn't even seen her.

Long after, when all the torches seemed to have dimmed and Lucy was beginning to yawn, the statue began to creakily move aside, and three figures exited.

"I'm sorry, Dad." James said in a low voice, before they all saw Lucy, "but there's really nothing I can do right now."

"I understand, Jamie. But as soon as there is, write to me and I'll do all I can to help."

"Lucy?" Ginny came into the light, towards the young girl, who stood with difficulty, shaking the stiffness from her limbs.

"I wanted to wait for James." She said uncertainly "I wanted to make sure he was okay."

Her aunt enveloped her in a hug that smelt of home and floo powder and fireplaces with apple wood in them, and all of a sudden Lucy felt an overwhelming need to cry.

"James, take her back to the common room? The poor dear must be exhausted after waiting for you all this time."

"We'll see you this weekend, son."

James scooped Lucy up in his arms as his parents went back into the office, starting the walk back to Gryffindor tower. Lucy put her arms around his neck and stayed quiet for a little, but just before they got back she looked him dead in the eyes.

"James, I know it wasn't you."

"Luce, don't be silly." He sighed "I've already told McGonagall it was me, and the punishment's all sorted, so there's no point in trying to protect me anymore, okay?"

"No, James, I know it wasn't you because _I saw who did it._"

**To Freya - thanks! And I felt the same about the magic parts, so they're only present in the first block :)**

**Please review!**


	74. In Which Fred Is Confused

**A/N - Thank you so much for the reviews! I'm glad you're all as excited as I am :) this next 'block' of chapters all takes place in the two days afterwards, and they follow on from each other pretty speedily! Enjoy :)**

In Which Fred Is Confused

"I suppose it's just as well we hadn't set up the firework prank then." He said gloomily as he and Caroline walked to lessons the next morning. "Can you imagine how angry McGonagall would have been with that on top of all this?"

"Ugh, I know." She pushed past a group of third years blocking the corridor "And it means I had to actually study for History of Magic, which was the most boring few hours of my life so far. But when _are _we going to do it? Now we have all those fireworks and no plan for them."

"I suppose we'll think of something." Fred huffed, lugging his books behind him as they rounded a corner into the exposed corridor that looped a small courtyard. "Right now everyone's a bit too cowed to appreciate a prank with real artistry."

"That's something that's been bothering me." She said after a moment. "You said James hadn't joined in with any pranks, and that he didn't really approve of ones which affected the whole school – so why did he do one himself? It just doesn't make any sense."

"To be honest, I don't think he did." Fred confessed, slumping down on a bench and dumping his texts on the stone ledge "none of us have ever been able to keep something that big secret from the family, not even Dom, and she's the best at keeping secrets."

"So you don't think he did it?" she asked, brow wrinkled in confusion. "But then why would he confess like that, in front of everyone?"

"I don't know." He sighed "we tried to talk to him last night, but he looked a bit shocked, so we decided to let it lie for a while. Besides, what's to say he knew who did it?"

"Well of course he _knows._" She replied, exasperated. "Otherwise there's no reason for him to take the blame, is there? Now we just have to figure out who _really_ did it, James will be absolved, this will all blow over and we can pull pranks for a far more friendly crowd."

Fred looked baffled.

"Oh come _on, _Weasley, it's really not that complicated."

"No, it's not the idea…but how are _we_ going to figure out who did it?"

She grinned at him wolfishly. "Magic, of course!"

**To Anamnita - I'm glad you liked it that much! I wouldn't have the patience to read the whole thing in one day! As for Lily not hexing him...firstly there are still regulations at Hogwarts about hexing students, and if she did they'd have to explain the situation to a professor, which would probably result in Stuart taking revenge in typically cruel fashion - but secondly, I think Lily is actually so scared of him that the thought hasn't crossed her mind yet. But with what he's done to Roxanne...who knows what she's thinking now?**

**Please review!**


	75. In Which Molly Is Apologetic

**A/N - This is at the same time as the last chapter - but because it's a bit disconnected plot-wise, I'm posting the next one at the same time :) Enjoy!**

In Which Molly Is Apologetic

She paces nervously up and down along the corridor, waiting, pulling the threads that hang at the wrist of her robe so that it frays even more. She's bitten her lip so much it's sore and her nerves are as ragged as her cuffs.

The seconds fall heavily like hailstones on her shoulders, counting down to the confrontation.

Finally, the shrill chimes of the bell start to echo through the corridors, and solid doors open, letting the fast flow of students out into the corridors. Molly clambers onto the ledge and peers over the milling heads, trying to spot her friend. She shouts, seeing the messy blonde hair, but Izzy takes no notice of her.

"Izzy! Hey, Izzy!" She's leapt down and is pushing through the crowd, battling past the bags and elbows and scowls to get to her friend. She catches her sleeve, tugging her to the side and out of the fastest current.

"What do you _want,_ Molly?" Izzy snaps, refusing to meet her eyes.

"I want to apologise, if you'll listen to me!" She's earnest, hopeful, if a little annoyed by her stubborn friend.

"Why would I listen?" she retorts bitterly. "it's not like you've listened to me all year."

"I just got my first boyfriend! Surely you can be a little happy for me? Understand that I'm going to be excited about him, and want to spend time with him, and be a bit confused?"

"It's all very well being confused, but you don't just _ditch _your friends!"

"It was one time, Izzy!"

"No." she glares angrily into her friend's eyes now, brows knotted. "It wasn't just 'one time', Molly, you've done this loads. You've not eaten breakfast with us since, you barely wrote to me this holiday, you've not sat with us in the common room at all in the evenings. This is not a blip – this is the person you've become."

She wrenches her wrist from Molly's grasp and strides away, but she's not getting away that easily. Lessons aer beginning again and the corridors are clear, so Molly catches her easily.

"Izzy! Izzy, wait, please. I know, okay, I was wrong. It wasn't one time, it was lots of times, and I'm so, so sorry."

"Really, Molly?" The smaller girl looks sceptical, resting her books on her hip.

"Yes, really. I've talked to Jake, and he agrees we've been spending too much time together. We've set times that are going to be us and also evenings we can spend with other people or alone or whatever – and now I might actually get some work done! – so I was wondering if-"

"-we can revise uses of Broxle venom tonight for the potions test?"

They both laugh nervously.

"Unless you want to ditch me in revenge?"

"Nah, I need to learn that too much! Common room at six?"

"I'll meet you there!"

And she did, this time. Molly got there ten minutes early and got all the notes ready, and they both aced the Potions practical. Within a week the entire thing was forgotten, and if you asked them about it in twenty years, neither would know what you were talking about. There were bigger things to worry about than fifth year squabbles.

**Please review!**


	76. In Which Albus Is Angry

**A/N - And this chapter is _very_ relevant, plot-wise! Enjoy :)**

In Which Albus Is Angry

He grabbed her before breakfast, yanking her behind the statue of Alberta The Airbourne as she walked down the stairs to her common room.

"What the hell, Tanya?"

"Oh! Hello Albus." She drawled, slipping an arm through his and smiling a lazy, satisfied smile. "How _is_ your brother doing? Are they looking at expulsion for the dear boy?"

"No." Disappointment flashed across her face for an instant, but she covered it with an expression of boredom, and tried to brush him off.

"Tanya, we need to talk."

"Why talk at all, my dear, when we could be doing so much more interesting things?" Nervous now, she tried to distract him with a kiss, but this time Albus brushed her off.

"Why didn't you give me the antidote?" he asked, his voice low and serious. "Did you forget? Or was this always part of the plan, to make things as difficult for me as for the rest of the school? Because if that was it, that's a mean trick to play, Tanya."

"It was never the plan, Albus." She looked up at him with her blue eyes carefully innocent. "How could you think that? Anna told me you'd taken it. Don't you remember?"

He roughly released her wrists, holding a hand to his forehead and leaning against the stone wall.

"No, I don't." he muttered "I don't remember anything clearly after flying up to the alcove. It's all confusing and…sort of fuzzy. Like in summer, when it's almost too hot to see things properly."

"Then I don't know what happened." She came in close, rubbing a warm hand along his back and speaking softly in his ear. "But remember Albus, you helped play that 'mean trick' on everyone with us. On your family, your friends. You're as much to blame as the rest of us – maybe more, since you came up with the means of setting it up. So I'd be careful who I accused of what, if I were you, my dear."

The words poured into his ear like poisoned treacle, warm and assuring, making him feel sick deep in the pit of his stomach.

"I have to tell McGonagall it was me." He muttered bleakly, making as if to rise from the stone ledge.

"No!" She snapped, breaking the hypnotic tone of voice with one of mild panic. She tugged him back roughly, making him sit back down with a strength you wouldn't have first expected from her appearance. "No, Albus." Again her voice was all honey and velvet, creeping into the gaps in his mind "because if you confess, they'll find us all, and you wouldn't want that, would you? To get all your friends in trouble? The only people who believed in you…who care about you…who would do anything for you?" She spoke low and he had to lean close to hear her, falling so far into her strange web of words that he could barely see any remnant of reason at all.

"No…no, I couldn't betray you."

"Betray…" she whispered. "We'd never be able to forgive you for that, Albus. Let James take the fall. Clearly he wants to, and doesn't he deserve it? After treating you so badly for so long? After pushing you into the background…taking all the attention…not caring about you at all…he should be punished."

"Yes. He deserves it." He was breathless, staring into her strangely light eyes for a moment that lasted an eternity, before she broke it, like a seamstress snapping a thread with her bare hands.

"You'd better get to lessons, my dear."

"Yes. Yes, lessons." He walked off in a daze, wandering back and forth all along the corridor.

As he receded into the distance, Anna emerged from the other side of the statue where she'd been hiding.

"Nice try, Tanya." She commented sharply, hands on hips. "But we're going to need a more permanent solution than this, you know."

"I know, I know. It's just as well he doesn't remember anything about the preparations, or he'd never trust us, and then we'd be in for it. You need to teach me that trick, by the way."

"What trick?"

"Don't play dumb, Anna. You know what I mean – that gypsy charm you cast that lets you influence people."

"I'll have to talk to my mother about it, but if she says I can tell you then I will. It would be easier if we could both control him – and I'd be less late to lessons!"

"Because that's _such _a concern for you."

**Please review!**


	77. In Which Roxanne Is Afraid

**A/N - Lunch break on the same day! Enjoy :)**

In Which Roxanne Is Afraid

Roxanne comes back to the dorm that lunchtime, stressed and harried by all the screeching, gossiping girls who can't stop talking about James' punishments: how he's not head boy anymore, how he's going to be in detention "for-EV-ah", how it's such a _scandal,_ because he's a _Potter._

But there's a heavier burden on her mind, because her confession to Lily is feeling more and more stupid by the second. It wasn't her burden to carry – and with Stuart there's no telling what he'll do if Lily confronts him. Though she might do it properly. She might tell a professor and do what Roxanne was too afraid to do – get Stuart to account for his actions. But what will he do if she does?

She's afraid of him still. There's a lot of anger, for the cruelty of his actions towards a naïve girl who was _so _in love with him – so in love that she drank what he gave her without the shadow of fear, and in spite of that Roxanne knows he would have persuaded her eventually anyway. Some people are like that: charismatic and alluring and intriguing on the outside, but as dark and bitter as strong coffee within, pretty cases hiding sharp knives.

So she's decided (almost) to tell Lily she lied, that she was of age and she's just bitter that Stuart chose Lily over her. She's (almost) made her peace with bearing her secret alone once more, with being careful with herself again around people. She's (almost) ready to do this. But she doesn't.

"I know what to do." Lily states as her cousin comes through the doorway. "I know exactly how to make him go away – we write to Uncle Charlie!"

Roxanne sighs, putting her textbooks down and sitting on the trunk at the end of her bed. She starts to speak, but Lily carries on, not seeing this.

"I mean, it's brilliant! Uncle Charlie can come in to 'assist' with Care Of Magical Creatures, hang around after lessons and catch Stuart. I bet after ten minutes that lousy Ravenclaw will be too afraid to look at us anymore, let alone threaten us! Then the problem is taken care of – and our dads never have to find out. I know mine would go crazy if he knew that I was being-"

"I lied, Lils."

"-forced into – what?" Lily stopped mid flow, staring wide eyed at the girl with the drooping shoulders who sat so still and quiet.

"I said I lied." She looked up with a sad little smile. "I was jealous, because I was in love with Stu. I still am. And it hurts that he chose you, that's all. But he's not done anything wrong, Lily, so you can't do anything to hurt him."

Lily stared at her open mouthed, speechless at this apparent confession. Roxanne got up and walked to the window, collecting up some of the bottles that had been strewn there this morning. She heard the door open, and looked up to see Lily standing there with a hard, blazing look on her face.

"You can't lie to me, Roxy." She told her in a low voice that trembled just a little bit. "I know what you told me was the truth because of that spell, and I will destroy Stuart for what he did to you and is doing to me – and nothing is going to change that, no matter how many pretty little stories you make up."

"Lily, you can't" Roxanne was at the door in two steps, pulling her cousin back in. "You don't know. He's dangerous, Lils, he could really hurt you. He's unpredictable, and he has a lot of friends-"

"-well so do we, I mean, look at the size of our family-"

"-and he's vicious. He actually enjoys hurting people and manipulating them to do what he wants. I know he gave me a potion, but he would have got me to sleep with him anyway somehow. And the spells he knows Lily, there's no end to them-"

"I know lots of spells, and I would prepare, Roxy-"

"Promise me, Lily." Her voice was urgent and afraid, her dark eyes boring into her cousin's with an intensity Lily recognised from her aunt. "Promise me you won't do anything until I can figure out a plan."

Lily hesitated for a long moment, before replying with a rush of breath as the tension between the two dissipated. "I won't do anything – yet."

"Thank you." The heartfelt words came with a hug, and Roxanne fell onto her bed with a little more peace in her heart when Lily left.

But Lily was not put off so easily – she'd inherited her mum's bravery and her dad's determination, and her anger at Stuart was growing more and more every day she saw the sadness on Roxanne's face, or felt the bruises on her own waist.

**Please review!**


	78. In Which Victoire Is Surprised

**A/N - Happy Friday! This is happening at the same time, different place :) enjoy!**

In Which Victoire Is Surprised.

It's a small room with warm yellowy walls, and the February sunshine streaming in through the bay window as strong as if it was July. Victoire's sitting on the little sofa, Poppy on the floor with her toys.

Waiting.

She can feel how important this meeting could be, in tingling fiery flashes through her veins, and she's a little scared, but she's ready now. She wasn't yesterday, or even ten minutes ago – but she feels ready now.

The door opens smoothly and Victoire stands, wringing her hands nervously. Poppy is oblivious, over playing with some lamp in the corner when her aunt comes in, ushered by a woman in pearls and a cardigan who shuts the door quietly.

Dominique searches her sisters face, agonizingly quiet, and Victoire stands still, shocked by the sight of her. Because even though she's better than she was – looking less like an alien with her unearthly cheekbones and haunted eyes – she's still painfully slender and fragile.

The silence is crushing, both women with so much to say and so little idea of how to begin, and it seems as if they might stand there forever until Victoire reaches out one hand in front of her.

"Dom." She says, almost pleading, in a small broken voice that makes her sound like a child again. And then all of a sudden Dominique has rushed across the little room and the huge divide between the two and is in her arms, and there are tears and apologies and hugs and fragments of sentences which garble and distort in a tumbling mix of emotions.

After a little while, they both step back and wipe their eyes, a little embarrassed but glad for the ease with which they can fall back into their old ways, their old friendship.

"So." Says Victoire, settling herself on the sofa once more and patting the seat beside her. "What was it that you needed to tell me in person, Dom?"

Dominique joins her slowly, carefully, and her face is as guarded as it has been for the past few years around her sister. She's about to speak, about to break hearts and families and friendship and the anxiety builds inside her until she feels like a bottle of lemonade that's been shaken until it might explode and then –

"Oh, Poppy!" Victoire jumps up, padding across to the other side of the room in her grey velvet shoes, scooping up the dark haired baby who was lying on her back gurgling cheerfully to herself. "I'm so sorry, Dom, I forgot you've not been introduced properly! This is your niece. And this, my darling," she cooed to the girl "is your Auntie Dom."

Auntie Dom inhales sharply as the baby is deposited in her arms, looking up at her with dark eyes so like her own, intelligent but unreadable, and realises that she can't do this, can't tear down her sister's marriage and Teddy's life and this innocent little child's family – it's not in her.

So they coo over the baby, and chat about family and painting and clothes and all the other things that they used to do together, and Dom avoids the issue altogether, at least until Victoire brings it up again, just as they are leaving.

"Oh." She shrugs, making little of it. "I wanted to ask you how everyone was at school. I'm getting letters from Rose, but the littler ones don't write and Louis forgets a lot – especially with everything that's been going on recently."

Victoire tilts her head to the side and looks at her sister appraisingly, knowing that she's hiding something.

"I've heard a bit – but you know what Hogwarts is like: it's its own little world over there. I'll try and find out what's going on though, especially with the James situation." There's an awkward silence, and Victoire almost starts to leave, but she turns around at the last minute.

"Dom?"

"Hmm?" the younger girl turns in the doorway, small against the tall entrance, looking like nothing more than a lost child.

"If…if you wanted to, you could come and visit us. I mean, the house isn't so far from here, only an hour by muggle transport and the clinic's connected to the floo anyway…but if they'll let you come, We'd love to have you with us for weekends. We could do all the things mum used to do with us with Poppy. Willy ou think about it?"

"I don't have to, 'Toire, I'd love to." And a wide, unrestrained smile creeps over her thin face at the idea – a smile that used to belong to the energetic, freckled girl her sister remembers.

So Victoire leaves, and Dom stays for a while, but both are different. The former is surprised at the success of her little visit, and her sister's changed attitude, and the unexpected invitation she offered. The latter is surprised by the excitement she feels at the thought of seeing her family again – and content with them – with _him _ – just being family and no more, and she's hopeful. Hopeful for the first time in a long time.

**Please review!**


	79. In Which Hugo Is Surprising

**A/N - Happy Sunday! Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews - I can't believe we're over 200!**

In Which Hugo Is Surprising

"Look, we have to do something about this." Fred was at the front of the little room, leaning against a dark bookcase draped in ivory velvet. They were in Lucy's bower (or all of them but James, Albus, Lily and Roxanne, who the others had decided would not be able to keep a secret sufficiently well.) "We all know that James didn't pull off this prank – for one thing he's not experienced enough, and for another he's not fun enough. Lucy says she saw who do it, but that turned out to be about as helpful as one of my dad's singing ties are to the school choir."

"Hey!" Lucy said indignantly. "It's not my fault I couldn't see their faces! It was really dark in there!"

"Well you shouldn't have been in there anyway." Molly retorted from the other sofa. "It was the middle of the night and you _know _that's against the rules."

"Hey, you can only break the rules for seven years and then you have to stick to them." Caroline said with a smirk at Lucy. "Let her have her fun."

"That's not how it works! And besides, what are you doing here anyway? You're not a Weasley."

"Not even half a Weasley like the Potters." Mumbled Hugo from the back.

"Caroline's here because she's my partner in crime." Announced Fred "And because she's the one who pointed out how James wouldn't have done something this stupid."

"Can we please get on with it?" Rose stood up and ushered Fred into her place (while he made all sorts of faces and muttered comments about bossy witches in his family.) "We know it wasn't James, we know there were three culprits, two of whom fly well and are in Slytherin, one who can't and is in Ravenclaw. Now, any ideas?"

"I did have a theory, but I don't think it's going to be right…" Hugo spoke up after the long silence where everyone avoided Rose's eyes.

"Tell it anyway, Hugo, and we'll work it out from there. It's better than nothing."

"Well, at breakfast, after the prank had begun and everyone was going crazy." He began slowly, but speeded up as Louis motioned impatiently for him to get to the point. "I'm already hurrying! I don't want to miss anything out. Anyway, I was trying to get James to help us rescue Roxy and Lucy, but he and Al were having an argument in one of the aisles and, well, I heard Albus say that he did it."

"That's ridiculous."

"Albus would never do something that mean."

"It must have been the prank."

"No, that doesn't make sense." Hugo replied to his cousins' disbelief. "The prank was to make us all tell the truth for a whole day, so he couldn't lie."

"Hugo's right." Caroline piped up "If Albus said that while the spell was still affecting him, then he must have done it."

"Unless he took an antidote?"

"But if he didn't have to tell the truth, then why would he confess to that? He knew he'd just get in trouble."

"Maybe he was trying to protect someone else, like James apparently tried to protect him." Lucy said softly, and they all fell into a brooding silence, each trying to sort through the evidence themselves.

"Did you see anything else, Hugo?"

"Yeah – after he stopped shouting at James, he left with those people he's been hanging around with. He was holding that Tanya girl's hand."

"Isn't she in Slytherin?"

"Aren't most of that group?"

"Nah, they're a pretty even mix of Ravenclaw and Slytherin."

"Ravenclaw and Slytherin?"

"Like the people who pulled the prank?"

"What else did you see Hugo?"

"That's all really." He shrugged, eliciting an infuriated sigh from his sister. "But when we were all lined up in the Hall for that talk, Tanya and her Spanish friend looked really pleased with themselves. Especially when James owned up."

"Do you think…?"

"They certainly like causing trouble."

"It's a possibility…"

"Who was her friend, Hugo?" Caroline looked worried as she asked, though the others were too busy discussing this new development to pay attention to her question.

"The Spanish one with dark hair. I think her name's Anna, but I don't know."

"I thought so." Her face darkened for a second, but she covered her expression and she addressed the whole group. "I think Hugo's got it. We need to find out more about this Tanya girl."

**Please review!**


	80. In Which Lucy Is Ignored

**A/N - Sorry a thousand times for being so rubbish with replying to reviews this week, but hopefully all the chapters of this weekend will make up for it! **

In Which Lucy Is Ignored

_Previously…_

_"I thought so." Her face darkened for a second, but she covered her expression and she addressed the whole group. "I think Hugo's got it. We need to find out more about this Tanya girl."_

"Okay, we'll need to see if anyone around her year knows about her – she's in fifth, right?"

"No, Sixth."

"Right, then it'll probably be easiest for you to get to her, Rose."

Rose screwed up her face in distaste. "I think Scorpius has Defence with her. I suppose I could catch her before that – but I've heard she's pretty difficult to talk to if she doesn't begin the conversation."

"Maybe we should get to her through her friends? The boys don't seem to be close with her – but she and the dark haired girl are thicker than thieves."

"Actually-" Lucy began, her eyes lighting up with an idea.

"No, that wouldn't work." Caroline cut her off hurriedly "Tanya wouldn't share her secrets, I don't think. The dark haired girl is probably just another useless minion – but if you think she's involved properly I can find out about her."

"Brill." Fred said, and as the planning deepened, Lucy grabbed Rose's arm and pulled her from the circle.

"Rose, I figured something out, and I think it might be important." She said urgently, trying to catch the older girl's full attention.

"Oh what is it this time, Luce?" She replied impatiently, straining to hear Fred's plot.

"Caroline seems very interested in this dark haired girl, and I know why! It's because-"

"-Because she probably likes Fred and she wants to help him so that he'll notice her more. I know, I know, but they're fourteen, what're you going to do? You're too young to worry about that, and Fred's so dense that he's not going to realise unless she snogs him, records it for future reference and gives him the written rundown of her emotions stamped by the minister himself. Now really, Lucy, we've got a lot to sort out. Can you please help?"

She rejoined the group at once, but the younger girl held back, a sceptical expression on her face. She studied Caroline's sharp features and dark eyes, mulling over this idea that had taken hold in her mind – suspicion and faint understanding all rolled up into a tangled ball which she couldn't quite unravel.

So when they all went their separate ways that night, ready to put the plan into action the next morning, Lucy decided on her role. She would follow _Caroline_, and try and get enough proof of what she believed that her family would have to listen to her…

**Please review!**


	81. In Which Louis Is Sneaky

**A/N - And I'm back! I'll try to post the next chapter this weekend as well, if my mountains of homework permit it! Enjoy :)**

In Which Louis Is Sneaky

They put the plan into action the very next day, and Louis found himself lurking in the courtyard as Scorpius and Rose walked back from Transfiguration, close behind a blonde girl whose face he was beginning to know all too well.

He joined up with them, falling into step as naturally as taking another breath, and hissed a question at his cousin.

"What did she say, Rose?"

"We've not spoken yet." She replied, eyeing the girl warily as she swished along the corridor, hips swinging theatrically "We couldn't figure out how to begin. Scorpius is nerving himself up for it right now."

Louis cast a disparaging glance at the blonde boy, who looked a little green at the prospect.

"Screw that." He muttered, speeding up despite Rose's attempts to pull him back, and catching Tanya just as she started the stairs to the Astronomy Tower.

"Hey." He said, a little out of breath. "I need to talk to you. Do you have a minute?"

She looked at him through her eyelashes, smiling a slow, dangerous smile.

"Come with me." She replied calmly, turning quickly and disappearing into an alcove ten or twenty steps above him. Louis looked back at Rose and Scorpius, motioning them to follow, and as soon as they were hurrying after him he followed Tanya into the recess, smiling with all the rakish charm of his dad.

"So, Weasley." She asked in a low voice. "What could you _possibly_ need to talk to me about?"

"Um." He began.

"Inspired." She drawled.

Louis scowled for a second. "I have…a friend. Who likes you."

"How novel."

"And my _friend_ wants to know what he could do if he wanted to go out with you. How to get you to like him."

Tanya looked at him sceptically, her brilliant eyes testing him, almost pushing into his mind with their ice and power. "Weasley, I don't think you have a friend." She drew nearer, never breaking eye contact, until her lips were a finger's width from his. "Who are you _really_ talking about?"

"No! No, not me." Louis almost stuttered. "I mean, I have a girlfriend, and I would never…it's Albus, okay?" He pressed back into the wall in an attempt to get away from her, and he missed her eyes narrow as she realised the lie. As he grew more flustered and she got closer and closer, Louis decided to give up the pretence.

"We know you did something." He gasped, trying to avoid her eyes and lips and hair in vain. "We know you pulled the prank, and we don't know how you fixed it so that James took the blame – or that Albus let him when he knew – but we're going to find out. And you're going to be very sorry you took on the Weasleys. And the Potters. We stick together."

Tanya smirked, and replied to him frankly, wrong-footing the boy who had expected a more volatile reaction. "You're right." She murmured, breath warm on his cheek. "I did do it – and it was to get your cousin in trouble. But no-one will ever make me sorry. Or dare to get me in trouble for it."

Like a snake, she struck fast, whipping her wand into his ribs and pressing his neck into the stone with her slim forearm. She started muttering strange, melodious phrases under her breath as he struggled to get away. She was unexpectedly strong, but he could have overpowered her – but as she spoke he began to wonder more and more why he would want to. Why would he want to escape from such a lovely girl? She smiled so prettily, after all. Maybe if he stays still and does as she asks, she'll start to like him. Why was he even here? They could be strolling through the gardens – it isn't really that cold, after all. Oh…where's she going?

When Tanya swept past Rose and Scorpius, who had been sitting on a nearby bench and straining to hear the end of the conversation, they were a little worried. But when they saw Louis emerge, dazed and confused with a dreamy expression on his face, and put that together with what they had heard Tanya announce, their own expression set in grim lines, and they marched the boy back to report to the rest of the group.

**Please review!**

**AND I've recently become hooked on Game Of Thrones ~ tell me in your review if you like it because I'm _dying_ to discuss dragons and Daenerys with someone!**


	82. In Which Rose Is Shocked

**A/N - Happy Sunday! And so the plot thickens...**

In Which Rose Is Shocked

"So you see, Headmistress, James shouldn't be on the verge of suspension at all. He wasn't involved even a little bit – it was all Tanya and her lot."

McGonagall regarded Rose sceptically over her glasses as she answered. "This is all very well, Miss Weasley, but I'm afraid you'll have to provide a little proof."

Rose and Scorpius stared at her in disbelief. "What more proof do you need?" he asked, shocked "She confessed it all to Louis! We heard every word!" He gestured angrily towards the afore-mentioned Louis, who was sitting on the sofa with the same dazed look on his face, as if he'd been whacked with a broomstick and was weirdly happy about it.

Professor McGonagall frowned slightly. "Mr Malfoy, you claiming something to be true does not mean that I will hold it as fact. The truth is that unless Miss Lane comes to me herself with this information, or you provide me with your memories of this event, I cannot do anything at all."

"You can have our memories!" Rose blurted out, and Scorpius agreed without hesitation, but McGonagall was still reluctant.

"Miss Weasley, it isn't that simple." She snapped "I would need a parent's permission, and the board of governors would need to review the case before they even thought of authorising this. It could take three or four weeks before that happened – and even then, the emotional upheaval of losing a memory is not something I would willingly inflict on either of you at such a young age."

"My dad gave up some of his memories when he was seventeen." Scorpius reminded her in a low voice

"We had to do things differently during the war – but now this is not an option, I'm afraid."

"But Professor – you have to believe that James had _nothing_ to do with this."

McGonagall sighed, laying down her quill and looking the two teenagers in the eyes she spoke frankly, as Louis stared blankly at the walls with a euphoric grin on his face. "Rose, I don't believe that James did this, or even know about it, but the governors are not so convinced. An investigation is being launched, but unless they find something quickly then your cousin will have to suffer the punishment for the crime he claims to have committed. Right now, I am more interested in finding out who has turned the second floor corridors into a jungle – though I have no doubt it will lead to another member of your family."

A silence fell as the headmistress once more took up her quill and scratched a few lines on the parchment. "I suggest you get a move on, children." She commented, without looking up "You have already missed the first half of your lesson."

Rose led Louis down the staircase, Scorpius following them – but he turned at the door and asked one last question.

"Headmistress – will you ask permission to take our memories please? Rose and I both agreed beforehand that we'd do anything to get James out of this."

Minerva looked at the lanky boy speculatively, thinking of his father at this age, and seeing that stubborn determination mixed with the loyalty his mother had always had, even in the direst circumstances, and she decided to treat him as the adult lurking behind his pale eyes.

"I will ask, Mr Malfoy. But I wouldn't hold your breath."

XxXxXxXxXxX

"Well that was a waste of time." Rose grumbled as they crossed the Entrance Hall, back from taking Louis up to the Hospital Wing. There were a few students around, just out of lessons for lunch.

"At least she's going to ask for permission to see our memories." Scorpius replied, looking around the high ceilinged room. As they walked through the doors to the Great Hall, they were accosted by a fluttering group of fifth year girls.

"Rose, is it true that Louis was snogging Tanya Lane all lesson just now?"

"When he didn't show up for Transfiguration we wondered where he'd got to-"

"-didn't he have a girlfriend as well?"

"Yeah, but it's _Tanya Lane_. I mean, who's going to turn her down?"

Rose and Scorpius stared at each other in silent amusement, and fought their way through the gossips to the Gryffindor Table – but before they could sit down, one more question caught their attention.

"Is it true, Rose?" Ailsa held herself stiffly, eyes fixed on the other girl's face as if she was unable to look away.

"Um," Rose exchanged a worried glance with her boyfriend, who grimaced sympathetically at her before scooping up sausages onto his plate. "Well, Ailsa-"

"No, it's okay." She wiped a hand under her eyes quickly, trying not to crack in front of so many people. "You don't have to explain to me – that should be Louis' job – but he's probably a bit busy."

She almost ran from the room, Rose calling after her in vain, lost to awful imaginings of Louis with another girl.

**Kat - Thank you!**

**cherryblossom12 - Well, this should answer that question! Though keep a little hope for Ailsa and Louis :)**

**Please review!**


	83. In Which Dominique Is Happy

**A/N - Gosh, I'm so late ~ apologies to you all! I'll update tomorrow as well to make up for it :) enjoy!**

In Which Dominique Is Happy

Wow. Well, this is new. Or at least unfamiliar, after all this horrible, awful time.

She's relaxed. And warm. And calm. And it's so, so nice.

The sunlight is streaming in through the thin white curtains, and for a moment she can't quite place where she is. The walls are wooden, painted with light blue paint, and the floor is exactly the same, but the ceiling is white with little gold stars all over its sloping surfaces. She's in a bed pressed into an alcove at the side, next to the window, and it's heaped with colourful quilts like the sort she remembers from when she was tiny. There's a dresser and a chair and a bookshelf set into the wall – and then she remembers that she's at Victoire's house, because there's a picture of the two of them on the shelf, and they look so happy there that she can't help but smile.

She lies there for a moment, luxuriating in the safety of blankets and that one smell that can only be home – and then the restless energy that characterizes her parents kicks in and she swings her legs out of bed and gets up. She throws on old jeans and a white shirt of her sister's and slowly walks down the stairs, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She can hear their voices in the kitchen, and she's a little scared, because _it's still him, so how do I do this?_ But Victoire's smile through the doorway and Poppy's gurgles draw her in like a rock falling from a roof.

There's orange juice, and sweet bread, and the easy chatter that hovers around babies, and Teddy isn't even there, so she just smiles and eats and enjoys it, and it's lovely.

And that's how the mornings pass here: slowly and calmly and prettily, as if their lives are being seen with a frame of roses like some painting. She'll read, or doodle, or garden with Victoire in the afternoons – gradually getting to know her again, rediscovering old connections they'd both ignored by accident. The house isn't far from Shell Cottage, so sometimes they walk down the beach and visit, but often they just sit and look at the sea, building castles from the worn pebbles.

She's still tired a lot, so she tends to make excuses and slip up to bed before Teddy gets home, and so far she's not been in a room alone with him at all. She knows that can't last – but she doesn't want to spoil this charming little interlude yet, because it's too sweet after such a long journey.

And Victoire doesn't notice, and when she is near him it's not hard to ignore the confused glances and brusque brush offs, so she sticks to her plans, and sleeps the awkwardness away for as long as she can.

Because she's finally happy. In a subdued, quiet little way, she's happy.

**Please review! Despite my shocking lateness!**


	84. In Which James Is Told

**A/N - So...it's Thursday. Sorry? You've all heard enough of my trials with school internet to understand, I hope!**** This is quite an explainy chapter I'm afraid - but the next is action packed, and will be up in a week, because I'm going away for a week tomorrow, to Rome, so I won't be updating then :( I'll post as soon as I'm back though! Enjoy!**

In Which James Is Told

He comes back from detention with aching arms and a filthy robe – he'd been scrubbing the floor in the Great Hall, covered in spilled sauces and shoe scuffs – and all he wants to do is get clean and fall into bed before he has to do the same thing all over again tomorrow. But of course, they're waiting for him, lined up just like the family pictures their grandma insists on taking every single summer.

He sighs deeply and doesn't even try to go up the stairs, instead falling into a soft armchair and looks at them sleepily. Rose exchanges a nervous glance with Scorpius before starting.

"Look, James, we know you didn't do this – don't try to argue with that, at least – but we also know that we can't really do anything to get you out of it right now, however much we ask McGonagall."

"What did you say to McGonagall?" he snaps awake a little, forehead furrowing in worry, but Rose brushes away his concern swiftly.

"Oh, not a lot. We got Tanya to tell us that she did it, but McGonagall wouldn't believe us, so she's looking into taking our memories – probably Louis' as he's the one she told it to – so you'll have to wait a bit for your absolution, but the real thing is how to get you out of this stupid punishment early, because it's barbaric. I was thinking that we could use the – "

"Wait – Tanya didn't do this by herself though: Albus started the whole thing."

"What? Tanya made it sound as if she'd thought of the thing. We thought she'd been playing Albus as much as the rest of us!"

"No, Al told me during the prank that he'd done the whole thing. I assumed they'd helped, but it sounded like it was his idea."

They stared at each other, confused, all working over the tangled events in their heads. Eventually, James spoke to the little group.

"How much do you know about Tanya?"

They quickly relayed the information previously gathered to him, eagerly stumbling over the words in their haste.

"Right." He sighed with the weariness his father wore after a long day "That sounds like what I've heard as well. The way it looks to me – at the moment, anyway – is that Tanya had a bigger part in this than we realised, and that Al had a much smaller one, but that he might not have realised that either. So, Al is either using Tanya for some reason – which isn't like him – or she's using him for something."

"What?"

"I don't know." He replied, annoyed "I just want to have a shower and fall asleep – but we're going to find out. The two blonde boys she hangs out with are in a few of my lessons. I'll see if I can listen to them and work something out. Now, though, I'm going to bed."

**Please review!**


	85. In Which I Am An Idiot

In Which I Am An Idiot

Hey, lovely people who alerted/read this far!

I have some news - kind of bad, kind of hopeful - relating to updates (what else?). As you probably know, I'm taking my A Levels at the moment, which is scary and life-affecting and all that stuff - and my exams are scaaarily close, so my free time is non-existent right now. So I've decided to put 'Magic' on hiatus until the second half of June, when I can start life again, post exams! And this means that those chapters will be mahoosively better quality because I won't be so stressed and frazzled :)  
>So yeah - if you have any questions, just PM me or find me on tumblr (.com), because of course I'd love to talk to you! Thank you for being great enough to read this, and review it and <em>like<em> it!

Goodbye for now! And good luck in your exams, if you're in my position!

Mandy x


	86. In Which Lily Is Hasty

**A/N - I'm back! Exams are over, I have bags of beautiful time, and you're going to have a deluge of updates in the next week! Thank you to all of you who have stuck with me through my hiatus (You get Glen Coco amounts of candy canes) and to all of you who reviewed during and who I (rudely) didn't reply to! Back to normal now, and I hope you enjoy :)**

In Which Lily Is Hasty

She doesn't care what Roxy said, or what she promised her, or any of that because _Merlin _she's angry and scared and if there's one thing she inherited from her mother it's her temper, so she's already out of the common room and half way to the duelling hall, summons flying around the castle to her prey as she walks.

It's cold, but her goosebumps are from anticipation and fury rather from the chill that emanates from the grey stone around her. The portraits are sleeping, and the only sound is the click of her shoes.

She's there in a heartbeat, in the middle of the circular room, waiting for him like a spider in her web. She paces the arena warily, watching the doors until the small one at the side opens with a bang, and he's there.

"Hello, dear."

She whirls around to face him, smirking confidently, like she's already won.

He tries to say something, steps towards her with his slick, smart attitude, but before he has a chance he's pressed against the stone floor by her silent spell and he can barely speak, let alone move.

Lily's at his side in a second, pressing the cruelly cold tip of her wand into his neck.

"You bastard."

He chokes and almost whimpers, but she japs him hard with the wand and cuts him off.

"Bring me the pictures of Roxy." She hisses, no wish to explain how she found out, in case he flips the situation to his advantage like he has so many times before. "You have ten minutes to go and get them, or I'll tell McGonagall everything that's happened anyway, and she'll protect us. You're not to speak to anyone or do anything else – just bring me every copy you made." She twisted his wand out of his clenched fist, stuffing it into her own pocket. She stepped back to the other side of the room, cautious of the risk she was taking.

She muttered the spell dissolvent, and Stuart rolled up off the floor, swaying slightly as he glared at her hatefully.

"Get the pictures, Stuart."

Something in her voice stopped him from loping across the room and knocking her out where she stood. There was a resolve in her, stronger and harder than diamond, that told him that if he raised a hand against her in this moment it wasn't just his reputation that she'd ruin – she'd do everything in her power to utterly destroy him. The bitter taste of defeat was worse because she was a girl – he'd never considered that she was capable of this.

So he left, and Lily waited there in the dark for nine and a half minutes before the door opened again. He slunk in reluctantly, scowling at her. The pictures were flung on the floor, skidding over to her, and Lily quickly hid them in one of her deep pockets. Then, she placed his wand on the ground a foot away from her, and cast a shield charm over it.

"The charm will break in ten minutes. Then you can go back to your dormitory. Thanks _ever_ so much." She swept out with the sarcasm flung back at him like a final challenge, in the knowledge that he wouldn't abandon his wand, even to make her sorry for that. She walked a hundred steps fast before the tension and fear dissipated, and she leant back against the wall and gasped and marvelled and laughed at her own nerve and the adrenaline of the victory.

She sat on the cool floor for a few moments, just breathing and feeling the glorious shiver of freedom that ran over her skin, a thousand times stronger than the one you feel when you've finished exams and have nothing hanging over you anymore.

Her euphoria was so great that when she heard them coming, it was too late to defend herself. The only thing she had time to do was slide the slim bundle of photographs into a gap in the wall before they turned the corner and she looked around, drained of everything but fear, to hear the curse.

The light sliced through the air and cut into her chest, smashing her back into the wall and knocking the light out of her eyes. The four figures dispersed at once, melting back into the shadows and leaving the strong girl slumped on the floor, staring unseeingly at the empty corridor.

**Please review! I promise to get back to replying now!**


	87. Lily On Monday Morning

**A/N - Sorry! Family stuff got decidedly in the way of life, and this is ridiculously short, but things will become clear soon. Enjoy :)**

Lily On Monday Morning

A couple of third years found her on the way to breakfast, and with some help they carried her limp body up to the hospital wing. She's lying there now, barely breathing, the air cold and heavy with the ignorance that surrounds her injuries and how they came about.

Roxanne hasn't left the bedside, her face as impassive as her cousins, but all the others have come through and gone out again. They can't seem to look at her for very long. Albus was the worst – he took two steps into the room and then went straight out again, his face crumpling in on itself.

The nurse doesn't know what to do.

The professors are trying to detect what magic was used where she was found.

McGonagall is giving an assembly to the rest of the school about the attack.

And Lily is lying in a narrow bed, wavering between here and nowhere.

The cousins leave things beside her – Lucy a book, James a photograph of them covered in floo powder, Hugo a half-eaten box of acid sweets – and by lunchtime they're all sitting in the room, spread across the stone floors or empty beds, completely silent.

They're all listening to the harsh, laboured rasp of her breathing. All listening intently, in case one of the breaths doesn't have a following one.

The time passes slowly, just as it always does when someone is on the edge of life and death. Each second that she survives seems significant, a victory gained against the ever encroaching phantom, but each same second that she doesn't improve feels more hopeless and frustrating and devastating than the one before.

They can hear murmurs outside the door from other students, but none of them dare to come in, and they are easily ignored.

Less easy to brush off are the mutters from the nurse's office. The fragments of diagnoses that all sound final and finished and fatal, because if they don't know why she's not waking up then how can they possibly hope to wake her?

And every grain of sand that pours through the timer above the door feels like a wasted moment when _they could be finding the person that did this._

But they don't move. Because something about this feels too big for even this incredible family to take on.

And for the first time that they can really remember, they feel utterly powerless.

**Please review!**


	88. Victoire On Monday Afternoon

**A/N - Oh gosh so many apologies - I'm late and I don't think I've replied to a single review but ugh life etc: Uni applications are driving me crazy! So this is mega short. But longer ones are coming...**

Victoire On Monday Afternoon

"We have to go."

"Dom, I can't just take off and leave, I have-"

"No. It's _Lily_, 'Toire. We have to go. Now."

The sisters stood either side of the worn kitchen table, Dominique stiff and unmoving, Victoire obviously distressed and confused.

"I can't take Poppy to Hogwarts, she's too young for the journey! Even if we go by floo powder it could make her ill."

"So leave her with grandma!"

"They aren't there! They went to visit Charlie last weekend and they don't get back for another two days."

"I'm going to grab some stuff." Dom pushed her hands down on the table as she rose "if you can't leave then I'll go alone." She called back, climbing the stairs quickly.

Victoire sat down heavily in the chair, lost in frantic thought and silent until her slight sister came back through the doorway, backpack and coat on.

"Are you coming?"

Silence

"Victoire?"

"No." she replied at last, her voice low and heavy and full of self-recrimination. Dominique stared at her in shock for a moment, before an expression of disgust fell across her face, obscuring any flicker of sympathy or understanding that might have lurked there.

"Typical, Vic. You always cared more about your perfect little life than any of us. I'll tell Lily you say 'hi' when I see her – if she's conscious, that is." She spat the words like a curse, whirling to the living room door. Victoire rushed after her, grabbing the younger girl's arm as she stepped towards the fireplace.

"Dom, you can't go so far by yourself, you aren't well enough-"

"I'll manage."

"You're not recovered, what if you-"

"Victoire, I had an eating disorder, not a broken leg. Recovery isn't always something you can see."

"Exactly! You aren't strong enough to go back!"

"I think I'm most familiar with my mental state, thank you."

"But Dom-"

"_I _am going to be fine. _I _wasn't assaulted and left for dead. _Unlike Lily_."

Victoire dropped her hand to her side, shocked. In a flash, Dominique was throwing the powder into the flames and disappearing to Hogsmeade, leaving her sister speechless.

**Please review!**


End file.
